


The hands we're given

by LessonsFromMoths



Series: Haikyuu vs Zombies [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Asthma, Asthmatic Bokuto Koutarou, BAMF Akaashi Keiji, But still cool, Conspiracy, Disability, End is gearing up for sequel, Everyone is gay pretty much but im not sorry, HOH Akaashi Keiji, Hurt/Comfort, I'm gonna let you know now, Karasuno, Kinda whump ngl, Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, No Major Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, People are the real monsters, Plot heavy in the last few chapters, Reunions, Safe Haven, Shiratorizawa, Strangers to Lovers, Tokyo (City), Vomiting, What happened to the zombies, Zombie Violence, less BAMF Bokuto Koutarou, no beta we die like men, so it's a bit ambiguous, sorry bout that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25286761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessonsFromMoths/pseuds/LessonsFromMoths
Summary: Akaashi is just trying to survive in this new normal. Bokuto thinks Akaashi is super cool and wants to be his friend. They're travelling through Tokyo in search of a safe place, if one even exists anymore, meeting friends and foes alike.What would you do for love?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: Haikyuu vs Zombies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928431
Comments: 86
Kudos: 201
Collections: BOKUAKA





	1. land of confusion

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from [Land of Confusion - Hidden Citizens version.](https://youtu.be/AFF7FKS9Exc)
> 
> Hello everyone!! So this is another WIP fic. I have chapters 2, 3, 4, and 6 pre-written (yeah, I def wrote this waaayy out of order but it'll be all good haha) so I think I'll post every week as long as I can keep up! I'm really excited to share my first Bokuaka fic, so I hope you guys enjoy it. Since it's my first time writing this ship, I'm sorry if anyone is super ooc (but it also helps that this is an AU). 
> 
> Disclaimer: my geography knowledge is limited to Google Maps. I’m so sorry for any inaccuracies, but please take them with a grain of salt: I do not live in nor have I ever been to Japan, so I’m merely trying my best lol. This is a work of fiction, so my Japan is a bit fictitious too.
> 
> Rated mature bc of very slight sexual content and violence.
> 
> There will be a TON of characters and a few side ships in this, but they don't show up for a while! I'll add tags as I update :) Thanks for reading!

It’s instinct. 

Second nature. 

Keiji doesn’t even blink as he repeatedly bashes the sickeningly soft head of the zombie with the nearest object he can grab: normally he’d go for the aluminum bat or steel crowbar that are both strategically strapped to his backpack, but there’s no time. He lets out grunts of exertion as he winds his arm back and brings down the metal object harshly into the pumpkin-like head, brains oozing out in a sickening slush. The foul-smelling liquid permeates the room, making Keiji curl his lip in disgust.

“Holyfuckingshit,” someone breathes in a high voice, and Keiji snaps his head up in surprise. He hadn’t expected another being to be in the office building with him -- the undead made a lot of noise, and it’s been a while since he’s seen another person. He forgot how quiet humans can be. It’s a pain.

“Sorry, was this one yours?” Keiji asks, inclining his head slightly at the twitching zombie at his feet. Its final death will come soon. 

“N-no,” the other person stutters, still looking mildly terrified as they remain on the floor. Keiji shrugs, throwing down the weapon he had grabbed - a beige metal stapler that looks like it’s seen better days than the one Keiji just subjected it to. “Did you…? Did you just kill that zombie with a stapler?” The man asks, and Keiji graces him with a humorless smile. 

“There’s a first for everything, I guess.” He surveys the room, making his way over to a desk to check for tape and other helpful supplies. He could really go for a few more pens - their springs are useful for many things, including picking locks. He’s careful not to turn his back completely on the stranger in the room. These days you never really know. “Where are you headed?” He decides to make conversation. It’s probably not the most suave conversation starter, but can he really be blamed when he hasn’t talked to a person properly in over 3 months? 

“Not sure,” the other man says. “Probably anywhere but here. Shinjuku is crawling with them. You?”

Keiji nods, humming to himself a bit as he continues to raid the desks. “Can’t blame you there. I have a similar goal.” 

“Can I come with you?” The other man suddenly blurts. Keiji turns to look at him fully for the first time.

He’s tall - Keiji can tell that even when the man is curled up on the floor. His legs are unsuccessfully tucked underneath him. He’s also broad, indicating that he’s probably only made it this far into the end of the world on brute force alone. His hair is dirty and falling in his eyes, eyes that are so bright in the light filtering in through the office window that they seem to glow yellow. 

Keiji doesn’t trust him as far as he can throw him. And this dude is big, so throwing him would be damn near impossible. “Why?” He asks. 

“Dude,” the man starts, his eyes widening. “I was about to die and you just came blazing in from out of nowhere and smacked the hell out of that zombie with a stapler!! I am so sticking around with you for the rest of the apocalypse.” 

Keiji tilts his head oddly, looking at the man in front of him and trying to gauge his truthfulness. He wonders if the excitement in his expression is faked, or if he really is just that naive.

“You don’t know me,” Keiji says slowly. He offhandedly wonders if he’s trying to talk the other man out of his plea. 

“I’m Bokuto Koutarou. What’s your name?” 

Names hold little meaning anymore, Keiji has no problem giving his out. “Akaashi Keiji.”

“Well, now I know two things about you. Your name, and that you’re super cool and good at killing zombies.” 

That's technically three things. Keiji squints at the man again. “What makes you think I’m the kind of person you’d want to hang around? I might have saved you so that I could bring you back to my cannibal friends.” 

To his surprise, the other man throws back his head and laughs. “You’re dark Akaashi! I like that! But you wouldn’t have told me your plan. Also, you’re carrying everything you own on your back. And I know the look in your eyes. You’re alone out here.” 

Huh. So Bokuto Koutarou isn’t as stupid as Keiji had originally assumed. “Have you been alone all this time?” He asks. 

Bokuto’s expression darkens. “No. I lost my group a few weeks back.” Well. That could mean a lot of things, the most obvious being that his group is dead and he’s been alone ever since. Keii doesn’t ask him to elaborate. They’ve all lost people. They’ve all made the hard choices.

“I’m not a good companion.” Keiji lets him know.

“That’s okay! I’m sure you’re great Akaashi!!”

“Can you kill?” Keiji asks, choosing to ignore the excited shouting and shoving the office supplies into his bag.

“I…?” Bokuto looks stunned, and then comes to the realization that Keiji’s going to let him join his one-man parade. “Y-yes! I can kill! Killing machine, that’s what I am!” He stands quickly, puffing out his large chest. He’s amusing, Keiji will give him that. He’s also loud - something that could get you killed but also something that Keiji himself can’t complain about. But he’s also a stranger. He might be waiting for the opportunity to kill Keiji and steal his things. 

Keiji finds himself thinking that until then, the company might be nice. 

“If you get too annoying or if I have to save your ass all the time, I’m dropping you.” 

“Sir yes sir! You got it! Capisce!” Keiji turns to him, and Bokuto mimes zipping up his lips and even locking an imaginary key at the corner of his mouth. Keiji has a feeling his old group had him practice the motion a lot. 

Keiji just lets out a small puff of breath that might be a sigh and shakes his head. “We’ll compare supplies once we get out of Shinjuku. I don’t want to stay here much longer.” He moves to the window and surveys the area. Quiet, but that doesn’t mean much. He relies much more on his eyes these days anyways. 

“What’s the plan?” Bokuto is suddenly beside him, smelling of sweat and grime. Keiji is positive that he himself doesn’t smell much better. 

Even though there’s another person in the equation, he’s pretty sure that his exit strategy will still hold. “The Kanda river,” he says, already mentally planning their route from the office building to the river. “It’ll take us about three hours to get there, probably another few to find a working boat, and then I really don’t know how long we can ride the river. As long as possible, ideally, so we can get out of Tokyo.”

Bokuto nods, face concentrated. “You know, I think the medical university is on the way,” he muses. 

“So is the toy store, that doesn’t mean we have time to stop and play,” Keiji grumbles, mind still on escape routes from the building. He knows there’s a door on the east side, as well as the one he entered from the south. Or, there’s the fire escape that he can use to jump to the next building--

“No, I mean...medicine is a good trading tool, right? It wouldn’t hurt us to stop by.”

Keiji turns to look at his new travel partner. “I’m sure everyone and their brother had the same idea. If we make the stop, there’s a good chance that we’ll get stuck in a bad situation. Besides, the medical school won’t have a lot of supplies. That’s just where they put future doctors in classrooms and make them memorize molecules. If you want medicine for bartering, we should stop by the general hospital or women’s hospital.” Keiji runs the idea through his mind. It truly wouldn’t be a bad idea to stock up on medicine. And Bokuto has a point - good bartering material is hard to come by these days. It isn’t like money is worth what it was. Now its only use might be as toilet paper.

He remaps their trip in his head. The hospitals are on the way if they take the route that goes through the heart of Shinjuku rather than skirt around the central city. He weighs the pros and cons.

Pro: they would get medicine for bartering or for themselves, if either of them happened to get hurt or sick.

Con: The extra time it would take to explore the hospitals might move their trip down the river until tomorrow.

Pro: It doesn’t really matter, they’re not on a time limit.

Con: They would need to find shelter for the night.

Pro: Now that there’s two of them, they can sleep in shifts, and Keiji might finally get more than two hours of sleep.

Con: Does he actually trust Bokuto enough to sleep while the near-stranger keeps watch?

Also con: The hospitals will undoubtedly be dangerous. Lots of zombies and the high possibility of getting trapped and eaten.

Fact: The entire world is dangerous.

“Akaashi?” The voice rips him from his musings. He looks over and nods.

“Fine. Let’s go now, so we don’t waste more sunlight.”

Bokuto isn’t the worst travel partner in the world. Well, with the decreased population he might have been, but Keiji is fairly impressed by his ability to keep the conversation going no matter what. The other man has a steady stream of consciousness flowing from his mouth that quickly becomes an easy background noise that Keiji can tune out. Bokuto talks about everything - from his family to the skyline to how much he misses math to the blue aluminum water bottle he had as a kid. 

The cadence of his voice is a low drone when he rambles, and it picks up sharply when he sees something of immediate interest: a wriggling body on the ground, a 7/11 that doesn’t look like it’s been completely looted, a cool stone to add to his collection. Keiji is surprised when they approach the entrance of the hospital an hour later. With Bokuto’s chatter, the trip felt like it took a lot less time than if Keiji was traversing Tokyo alone. 

“I’ve got the right, you’ve got the left Bokuto-san. We’ll clear room by room to save time and energy. Be as quiet as possible. Ready?” Keiji looks to Bokuto as he himself takes out his metal bat from its velcro loop. 

Bokuto has a hammer in his hand, presumably from his backpack, maybe from the ground. At this point Keiji really doesn’t even want to know. “Ready,” the taller man confirms. 

Keiji sucks in a breath and enters the hospital, Bokuto close behind him. He mildly wonders if the other man will use this opportunity to knock him out with the hammer and take his stuff, but pushes the thought out of his mind as soon as it arrives. He won’t be able to do anything about it if that were to happen, and it’s not like he has much to lose, anyhow. 

They clear the first floor of the hospital fairly easily, locking rooms where strange noises can be heard and smashing skulls when necessary. When they meet back up after effectively clearing their sections, Bokuto has brain matter splattered across his face that wasn’t there before.

“You didn’t lie,” is all Keiji says as the other man wipes at his face with the hem of a shirt that might have been white 6 months ago. 

“I can hold my own once in a while.”

“Good to know,” Keiji replies. “Probably a good time to start checking for medicine.”

“The patient wings are over on this side,” Bokuto gestures towards the area he had cleared out. “I think I saw a nurse’s station, I don’t think the medication room would be too far from it.”

Keiji shrugs, a bit impressed. “Lead the way.” 

Bokuto does, his careful steps contrasting his wild personality as they tiptoe around strewn medical supplies. There’s an alarming amount of broken glass on the floor, and it only increases in amount as they go on. 

“Here’s to hoping there’s still something left,” Bokuto enters a glass-encased room, which has a huge broken hole in the side of it. In the room, glass cases that presumably once held drugs have been shattered, and a large metallic machine sits in the middle of the room. It’s dented but otherwise looks untouched.

“This is where the good stuff is,” Bokuto slaps the machine. “I think we can force the drawers open.”

“Drawers?” Keiji moves towards the large device to examine it further.

“Yeah! The nurses put their fingerprint here,” Bokuto points to a small blue pad on the top of the machine, “and choose their patient and medication times. Then the shelf that has the medication opens!” 

“How do you know all of this, Bokuto-san?” 

The other man smiles sheepishly. “I used to be a paramedic. We’d have to bring patients into here all the time, so I got a pretty good sense for how hospitals work.”

Keiji creeps forward to look at the machine. “It looks like no one’s been able to get inside.” 

Bokuto frowns at it. “Yeah, but I don’t think they knew that these are drawers. Or if they did, they weren’t strong enough. But I have this!” Bokuto brandishes his hammer. “And you have that curled stick!” 

“...my crowbar?” 

“Yeah!” 

Not for the first time, Keiji wants to hold his head in his hands for a very, very long time. Instead, he walks up to the machine until he’s standing next to Bokuto. “This is going to make a lot of noise, isn’t it?”

“Yup!” Bokuto grins before winding his hammer back and smashing at the corner of the top drawer, presumably to try and make a dent that they can use to pry open the drawers. “Here, try your bird bar.”

“Crowbar,” Keiji corrects absentmindedly, stepping closer to the drawer and wedging the edge of his crowbar into the new imperfection in it. With the help of Bokuto, they lift up the crowbar with effort, Bokuto jumping around and cheering when the drawer releases with a loud noise. 

“Bokuto-san, please,” Keiji rolls his eyes, but inside he’s celebrating too. The drawer is full of small vials and even syringes, which he’s a bit surprised about but grateful for nonetheless. He’s not sure how else the medication would be of use if not for a way to inject it into the bloodstream. He’s not a doctor, but he’s pretty sure you can’t just swallow vials of medicine and expect them to take effect. 

Keiji starts grabbing the vials. There aren’t a lot, and he has a feeling the hospital stopped getting shipments of medicine and were trying to ration the things they had before the hospital got overrun and shut down. He notices a few names on the vials, piperacillin and diazepam and diltiazem. Bokuto is shoving a few vials of something called colchicine into his bag, and Keiji has a feeling that their abundance means that they aren’t much use. 

They repeat the process of breaking into the drawers for the last 3, getting access to only two of them before Keiji grows too paranoid at the amount of noise they’re making trying to break into the last one. They have tons of syringes now, as well as some alcohol pads and bandaids to fill out their medicine bounty. They found pills in the last drawer, steroids and painkillers and some lower-level opioids, which Keiji is afraid of having too many of them on their persons, but reasons that they’ll be incredible bartering tools if needed. 

“Bokuto-san, we can’t stay here much longer,” Keiji says as Bokuto hunts through the glass on the ground to look for a needle he dropped. 

“Right!” He straightens up. “We have to get to the river, right?” 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” 

After waiting for Bokuto to take a leak in a patient’s room, they clear out of the hospital, walking as quietly as possible to avoid any fights. Their journey to the river takes another few hours, but they don’t encounter a lot of trouble. It makes Keiji suspicious and Bokuto ecstatic. They run into a traffic jam, which takes extra time to navigate due to the sheer volume of cars and the fact that they’re reluctant to stray from the clear street they’re currently on. Because of this, dusk is flirting with them by the time they reach the river.

“We need to find shelter. We’ll look for a boat tomorrow,” Keiji says, glancing away from the sun. 

“There’s a hotel over there that I stayed in with my family once,” Bokuto points a little north of the river. “Maybe if it isn’t too bad we could try it?” 

Keiji nods, hoisting his bat up onto his shoulder and adjusting his pack. “Sounds fine.” 

They don’t encounter any trouble on the way to the hotel, which is typical for this time of night. Once they get to the hotel they scout it out for any signs of habitation. Finding none, they break in through the front door and escape to a taller floor, hoping that the height will provide them safety from zombies that are usually too dumb or decomposed to climb stairs. It won’t keep them safe from humans, though, so they set up a watch schedule with Keiji watching over them first.

“You’ll wake me, won’t you?” Bokuto asks. 

Keiji snorts. “Of course, Bokuto-san. I need sleep, too.”

The other man gnaws on his bottom lip, looking surprisingly hesitant. “No, I mean...you won’t leave me during the night, right?” 

Keiji notices the wariness in the other man’s eyes. He wonders if Bokuto is referring to an incident in his past or if he just has general anxiety over things like this. “I won’t leave, Bokuto-san,” Keiji says, and that’s enough to make the other man grin crookedly before pulling his bag close to use as a pillow. It’s smart -- if Keiji were to try and steal the bag, Bokuto would wake up from the jostling he would cause.

The night is silent but unnerving. Keiji is comforted by the soft snores of his travel partner. They’re not loud enough to attract attention, but they serve as a reminder that Bokuto is still there, and is still alive. Keiji off-handedly wonders if Bokuto’s snoring would be louder if they weren’t in a zombie apocalypse. Does your anxiety affect your body, even when you’re sleeping? Keiji’s had enough bad dreams to know that it does in some ways. It would be interesting to ask a doctor or psychologist if it affects your snoring levels. 

These are the thoughts that Keiji fills his mind with until the ticking watch on his wrist tells him that it’s time to wake Bokuto. He does, telling the other man to wake him in five hours and sliding him the wristwatch. He’s asleep immediately after he pulls his backpack under his neck. 

.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
I'll use this as an end note bc the one I have won't show up after I upload more chapters. Here are your chapter fun facts!!

\-- I have a headcanon that Bokuto has an incredible memory for people, places, and events. He can't remember simple things like the term for a crowbar, but he can recall a hotel he and his family stayed in once ten years ago 

\-- Akaashi making pros and cons lists in his head is something he developed when he was younger due to his general anxiety. 

\-- This fic is literally just me shoving all my Bokuto and Akaashi headcanons at you guys and I'm sorry but I'm also not. Thanks for reading!!!


	2. wrong side of heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A boat, some water, and an unfortunate situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh hello! Thank you to everyone who was so kind for chapter 1! It took all my self-control not to post this one early. Happy Wednesday! 
> 
> Chapter song is [Wrong Side of Heaven](https://youtu.be/2Ay1V9uXI7c) by Five Finger Death Punch. 
> 
> Once I finish writing this (I'm through chapter 7 at this point), I may increase updates to 2x per week, but it's taking me a lot longer to write this fic than my other multi-chapter one since the chapters are 1,000 - 2,000 words longer! 
> 
> As always, un-beta'd, please be patient with my mistakes :)
> 
>  **Edit as of 12/2/20:** my friend drew some amazing, incredible, wonderful, adorable [fanart](https://lessons-from-moths.tumblr.com/post/636443332135059456/just-a-haikyuu-bean-akaashi-baseball-bat) that you should definitely look at and give some love to! Also check out her [main blog](https://just-a-gay-bean.tumblr.com) and [Haikyuu/art blog](https://just-a-haikyuu-bean.tumblr.com/)! Thank you Bean!

They make it to the river the next morning. The water is surprisingly clear, though Keiji figures they have to attribute that to the fact that it’s a constantly-moving body of water. Bokuto crouches next to it, cupping his hands and bringing the water to his nose so he can smell it. He lets it stream through his fingers, shrugging as he stands. 

“Doesn’t smell bad. Think it’s drinkable?” 

Keiji doesn’t know the answer to that. “If you boil it long enough, probably.” Bokuto nods, looking at the river thoughtfully. “Should we try to find a boat?” 

Bokuto rips his gaze from the water. “I’ll follow your lead,” he says. “Especially if it gets us out of Shinjuku.” 

“I was thinking that we take the river down to Minato today, then go from there. It’ll take us a few hours on a boat,” Keiji says. 

“Sounds good!” 

They spend the next three hours looking for said boat. The river usually has a ton of canoes, but all of them are missing or broken beyond repair. Finally, Bokuto gives a shout from under a small pedestrian bridge: a canoe had been wedged under the bridge and would most likely survive a trip down the river. With some rope from Bokuto’s pack they tie their bags to the seats and grab some splintering paddles from the riverside. They’re finally ready to leave Shinjuku. 

After months spent traversing the northern side of Tokyo, Keiji is a bit excited about the prospect of moving south. He wonders if things are better in the south, if they’re less bleak. He doubts it, but he lets himself faintly hope. There’s nothing wrong with a small bit of hope, is there? 

They reach Minato City without much fanfare. The river was quiet if a little slow, Bokuto’s easy chattering passing the time. They don’t hit many personal topics -- Keiji thinks that will come with time, if they decide to stick together. For now he’s alright with the small bit of information he does know about his travel partner: he likes math, he used to have four younger siblings (all presumably dead now), he used to play volleyball, he mispronounces even simple words, and he likes to be validated. 

If this weren’t the likely end of the world, Keiji is confident that they would never be friends. Keiji most likely would have done all he could to maintain distance between himself and Bokuto Koutarou. But, as it is, travel partners are limited and he doesn’t mind having the simple-minded man as his company. He’s entertaining and friendly, and his straightforward emotions are easy to decipher. 

Which means that, despite their relatively new partnership, Keiji can tell when something is bothering him. 

“What is it, Bokuto-san?” Keiji asks as they boil water by the riverside. Keiji watches for any threats while Bokuto crouches by the frying pan. 

“I guess I’m just missing my friends more than usual today,” he says honestly, surprising Keiji. He isn’t expecting such a candid answer. “And it’s not because you aren’t great, ‘Kaashi, ‘cause you are, it’s just that I know Kuroo would’ve loved going down the river.”

Keiji pauses. He knows he shouldn’t, but he’s going to open this can of worms anyways. “Tell me about your friends, Bokuto-san.” 

“Really! You won’t mind?” He looks suddenly bashful.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I minded,” Keiji sighs. 

“Oh!” He perks up at that. “Well there were four of us when I got separated,” he starts. “Kuroo and I have been friends since we were in elementary school. We played each other in volleyball, because we both lived here in Tokyo but went to different schools! We were both captains. And then we ended up going to the same university, isn’t that cool? We played for the same team, and we were finally getting a chance to start this year!” His voice tapers off. “Too bad that didn’t work out. But then there’s Kenma! And Kenma is Kuroo’s childhood best friend. And now they’re boyfriends. Kenma played volleyball too, but he went to the same high school as Kuroo. Kuroo kinda made him play. Kenma likes video games and reading and he has a perfect memory! It’s super impressive, way more impressive than my memory, even though mine is pretty good! Kenma keeps Kuroo in line, because even though Kuroo is really smart, he might be too clever for his own good.” Bokuto’s face screws into an odd expression. Keiji wonders what it is that Kuroo did to make that look appear on Bokuto’s face.

“But Kenma’s really cool. He knows how to beat all the boss levels on Zelda Twilight Princess.” Keiji doesn’t have the heart to tell Bokuto that that game isn’t even that hard. “And then there’s Daichi. He was a volleyball captain too, but it was for a high school out in Miyagi.”

“Miyagi?” Keiji looks at Bokuto then, surprised. “That’s very far north.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto nods, serious. “But we played him in Nationals and his team played with us in Tokyo! Then he ended up coming to the same university as Kuroo and I, so we kind of teamed up when everything went to shit. Daichi’s a good person to have on your apocalypse team. He’s really strong and doesn’t get distracted or too riled up like some other people do. And he always knows what to do, like you!” Bokuto gets quiet again. “I miss them a lot.” 

“What happened to them?” Keiji finds himself asking. He immediately regrets it when Bokuto hunches in on himself.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “We were in Shibuya when we got separated. A ton of zombies and a group of people were chasing us. Kuroo thought it would be best if we split up, and I was assigned to get Kenma out of there, since he’s pretty small and can’t fight as well. So we ran. I got Kenma to a house that I thought was pretty safe, but we found some bad people.” Bokuto’s face darkens. 

“I made Kenma run while I held them off. I tried to lead them away, and eventually I hid in a museum. I got away, but I couldn’t find any of them after that, ‘cause I kinda forgot where Kuroo and Daichi were going. I must have searched Shibuya for days.” He lifts his shoulders sharply, as if trying to shrug the memory from his mind. “I remembered that we once talked about moving north so that we could see if Daichi’s family was still alive. He has his mom and three sisters. But that was so long ago, I don’t even know anymore.” He turns to Keiji, a strange smile on his face. “I’m glad you found me, Keiji. At least now I have someplace to go.” 

“I don’t know where I’m going, either,” Keiji says.

Bokuto smiles for real, this one small and private, looking out at the river. “Hey hey, that doesn’t matter. I’m going wherever you are. That’s enough direction for me.” 

Keiji stares at this strange man, wondering if his friends are still alive. Wondering what they’re like. Kuroo, who is probably just as ruthless as he is cunning; Kenma, who is so smart that his friends would sacrifice their lives for him; and Daichi, who they would follow to the ends of the earth just because he decided they should. Keiji wonders how they would describe Bokuto to a stranger. He doesn’t know how _he_ would describe Bokuto to a stranger. But he might be getting more of an idea. 

They finish up with the water, and by then dark is approaching. Finding a boat took too long. They might as well eat their first and last meal of the day after they find a place to settle down. Keiji is growing tired from a day of rowing on his low-calorie diet, and he’s sure Bokuto must be, too. They scour Minato before finding a convenience store that has minimal windows and a back office that has a lock on the door and a tiny window a few inches from the ceiling but many feet from the ground. It’s perfect. 

Before they settle in, Bokuto rifles through his bag before producing a metal cylinder with a loud, “Hey hey hey!” He displays it like a video game character, holding it in the air in his triumph. Keiji watches with mild amusement as Bokuto uncaps the cylinder and shakes it, producing the familiar sound of a metal ball clunking inside a metal prison. He also grabs a folded-up piece of cardboard from his bag and begins unfolding it. 

Before Keiji can ask, Bokuto is spraying the side of the convenience store, creating an odd symbol. It’s a circle -- no wait, a volleyball -- and it has claws curling around it, suspending it in the air. The shape begins to take form as he uses slits in the cardboard and another color of spray paint to add details. Bokuto attaches the claws to a feathery creature (an owl, Keiji’s mind supplies faintly) and begins creating a shadow-like creature next to the owl. Once Bokuto steps away to admire his handiwork, Keiji can only stare.

The finished product is an owl gripping a volleyball in its claws and a shadowy cat jumping next to it, as if to steal the volleyball away. Keiji studies Bokuto for a moment.

“What?” The other man asks, looking self-conscious. 

“So you’re a tagger,” Keiji says. He’s seen the different tags all around Tokyo -- people who want to be seen, or heard. Lots of tags are premonitions, _“The end is coming,” _others are pleas, _“God help us.”_ Bokuto’s is...an owl and a cat playing volleyball.__

__At the name, Bokuto immediately lights up. “Yeah! At first Kuroo and I started doing it to mark all the places we’ve been! But now….” Bokuto trails off, staring at the art. Keiji gets it. Now he hopes that Kuroo, Kenma, or Daichi will see it and know that he’s still out here._ _

__Keiji shrugs. He won’t admit it, but the art looks pretty cool. He wonders how much of Bokuto’s paint was used just to create this black and white image. He quietly hopes that it isn’t much so that he can tag some more buildings while they’re still in Tokyo._ _

__With that finished, they prepare their sleeping arrangements. They drag a body out from the back office before settling their things down, sharing a can of beans between the two of them for dinner and drinking water from their bottles as Bokuto entertains them with stories of volleyball and university. Keiji’s going to need to boil some for himself tomorrow. Keiji takes first watch again, waking Bokuto up and asking him for the same courtesy that he extended to the light-haired man: six hours of sleep. The other man nods, taking his wristwatch. “Sweet dreams, ‘Kaashi.”_ _

__

__

__

__When Keiji wakes up the next morning, Bokuto isn’t there. At first he panics. Did Bokuto get tired of him? Did he wander off and get himself killed? Did he take his things and leave? But a quick inventory tells him that all of his and Bokuto’s things are still in the room. He can’t help but breathe a large sigh of relief when Bokuto’s head pops back into the room. He’s immediately tensing back up when he sees his travel partner’s face._ _

__“What’s wrong?” He moves to stand, and is glad that he does because Bokuto stumbles against him, gripping onto Keiji’s side and the wall as he slides to the ground. His other hand holds the small garden spade they use for going to the bathroom._ _

__“I don’t think I boiled the water long enough,” he groans, looking like he’s fighting back a wave of nausea. His face is pale and his eyes look sunken. He wonders if Bokuto actually got any sleep while Keiji was on watch._ _

__Keiji is immediately crawling back over to his pack, searching for a water bottle. It has water from a few days ago, which should be safe to drink. He brings it back over to where Bokuto is leaning against the wall with his eyes shut. “Drink this,” he says._ _

__Bokuto shakes his head slowly. “Nah, ‘m just gonna crap it all out again in ten minutes.”_ _

__Keiji shakes the bottle. “That’s why you need to drink it, Bokuto-san. How long have you been having diarrhea?”_ _

__Bokuto squints his eyes shut and furrows his brow in thought. “Least a few hours,” he says after a minute._ _

__“Drink. Now.” Keiji presses the bottle into Bokuto’s hand and watches as his partner sluggishly lifts it to his lips and takes a few sips. “No, Bokuto-san, more. The whole thing.”_ _

__“‘Kaashi,” he whines, but obeys. Keiji eyes him worriedly. It would be so easy for Bokuto to die from this, and he resolves fiercely to make sure that it _does not happen._ Once Bokuto finishes the rest of the water about five minutes later, he starts sweating, gripping at his abdomen. “Gotta go back outside,” he says with a wince. _ _

__“Come on, then,” Keiji helps Bokuto stand and they shuffle out of the convenience store. Keiji takes the garden spade out of Bokuto’s hand and digs a small hole by a building that Bokuto can brace himself on. Then he walks a few yards away to give him privacy as he keeps watch. Bokuto stumbles back to him a few minutes later._ _

__“Let’s go, you need to drink another bottle of water.” Keiji leads him back to the convenience store and they settle back down on the floor as Keiji hands Bokuto another one of his water bottles. He’ll have to go out soon and check some nearby businesses to see if their toilets still have water in the toilet filters. It tastes sweet and tangy, but it’s always clean even if it does taste a bit stale. They can’t really be picky. Keiji doesn’t want to leave Bokuto alone though. What if something came after him while he was doing his business? Keiji knows that he’s probably too weak right now to fight back._ _

__Keiji stops pacing and drops down beside Bokuto, who is finishing up the second bottle of water. He looks slightly less pale. “Sorry ‘Kaashi,” he says quietly._ _

__“Something like this could have happened to either of us. River water is generally unsafe to drink because animals often defecate into it. Even if you boiled it all the way through -- which is likely -- there could still be some bacteria left. We’re just lucky I didn’t get sick at the same time. We likely would not survive.”_ _

__Bokuto sits in silence for a moment. “That’s the most you’ve ever said to me, ‘Kaashi.” He lets out a sigh and leans his head against Keiji’s shoulder. “You can’t get sick by being around me right?” He’s asking like he already knows, but needs confirmation._ _

__“No, Bokuto-san. Your illness is only contagious through your feces.”_ _

__Bokuto lets out a sigh of relief. “Right.”_ _

__Keiji helps his travel partner outside a few more times in the next hour, but the rate that Bokuto is losing water is gradually decreasing. After the fourth time, Keiji doesn’t sit back down with him. “I have to go search for some more water. Drink this while I’m gone,” he hands Bokuto the second-to-last bottle of water from his pack, saving the last one for himself. “I’ll be back soon.”_ _

__He can hear Bokuto’s protests behind him, but the man is too weak to get up and race after him like Keiji is sure he wants to. Keiji won’t be gone long anyway. There are plenty of businesses around that have to have toilets._ _

__

__

__True to his word, Keiji returns once all the bottles have been filled with toilet filter water. When he gets back he sees Bokuto struggling to get outside, so he drops his bag by the entrance of the convenience store and helps him. Bokuto seems a lot more lucid but also more exhausted, which Keiji decides to take as a good sign. They’ll stay here another night to make sure that Bokuto can regain his strength, then they’ll continue on down the river._ _

__Keiji barricades the door, because he’s not going to ask Bokuto to stand watch and he thinks they both need some rest. He holds his bat in his hand as he drifts off._ _

__He’s pressed flush against Bokuto, the other man’s breathing lulling him into a restless night of sleep._ _

__

__

__

__If anyone had asked Keiji before all of this if he would survive the zombie apocalypse, he would have said no. Keiji is a realist. And Keiji never thought that he had what it takes._ _

__He wasn’t a huge fan of zombie media, but he knew the formula: take a character that has the skills you need to survive and follow them through their struggle in the apocalypse. Keiji didn’t have those skills. He wasn’t a police officer or a black belt in anything or a war veteran. He was Akaashi Keiji, second year Japanese Literature student at the University of Tokyo. He wasn’t anything special._ _

__Except when everything had gone to shit, people panicked. It became very clear very quickly who was going to survive and who wasn’t, and it all honestly came down to who could keep their head. Keiji had always been good at that. His patience and habit of exhausting every option before making up his mind had become invaluable, his ability to compartmentalize saving his life more than once._ _

__He had watched classmates who had called him cold and distant get literally eaten alive by their new enemy while he persevered._ _

__Yet another part of the apocalyptic hero formula that he didn’t fit was the purpose. Every single hero had a purpose behind their survival: family members they needed to find, a community they were trying to get to, a cure they were set on finding or creating. Keiji didn’t have that. All he had was his stubborn brain, refusing to let him give up and die. He was going to make it out of this, even if it was out of spite. A zombie apocalypse wasn’t going to dictate the end of his life._ _

__But now. Now he has a travel companion. Someone...to live for? No. But someone to not die for? Yeah, Keiji is pretty sure that’s what he’s been given. He’s not sure yet if it’s a gift or a curse._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Fun Facts!
> 
> \-- The first headcanon I had regarding this fic was written at the top of the document exactly as follows: “Bokuto is a tagger and you cant convince me otherwise. Akaashi is just like ????? why????”
> 
> \-- Akaashi getting all his water from toilet filters comes from the book series “Ashfall” by Mike Mullin. One of my fave apocalyptic series (no zombies, just ash and humanity). 
> 
> \-- I am a HUGE fan of zombie media (hence why this fic exists). My faves include: TV - Z Nation, Walking Dead szns 1-5, Black Summer, Daybreak; Movie - Zombieland, Warm Bodies, Shaun of the Dead; Book - “The Enemy” series by Charlie Higson; Videogames - TWD Videogame, Resident Evil, The Last of Us (I haven’t played the second one yet no spoilers pls!!). Feel free to share your favorite zombie media too!! I would love to hear about it.


	3. when the sh-- goes down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto's POV! Honestly, what could be going on in that boy's head?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song is [When the Sh-- Goes Down](https://youtu.be/HSv0f3ZBOqM)
> 
> Warning: graphic depictions of dead bodies in this one. Not super grotesque, but wanted to give ya'll a heads up.
> 
> I've also been using random apocalypse prompts from tumblr (usually anon) for a few spots of dialogue, so credit to anons on tumblr for those.
> 
> Apparently it's Bokuaka Week 2020? I always miss the fun stuff. Anyways enjoy the chapter I had so much fun writing Bokuto because he is a ridiculous wonderful mess. 
> 
> un-beta'd!

They’re surrounded. Shit, they’re fucking surrounded and this is it this is the end they’re gonna fucking die and it’s gonna be all his fault and ah _fuck._

And why is Koutarou thinking these thoughts right now? At the risk of sounding super full of himself by pretending that he’s the protagonist of this story, let’s go back.

The day is starting out great. After the poisoned water debacle Koutarou is determined to make it up to Akaashi by being as helpful as possible. Akaashi wants to go out searching for toilets to refill their water? Sure. Kinda gross, but sure! (It’s less gross when Akaashi patiently explains that they’re taking water from the water filter and not the actual toilet bowl. That’s something Koutarou really appreciates about Akaashi -- he’s really patient.) Check out nearby businesses and obviously empty supermarkets and convenience stores for missed food? No problem! (This one Koutarou likes better because instead of being hunched over toilets they pretty much get to have a scavenger hunt. He also really likes the way Akaashi smiles when he presents the three red skittles he found underneath a fallen shelf.) Take inventory on their current supply situation so that they can work better as a team? Of course! (Koutarou really likes this one, because Akaashi seems kind of impressed by the sheer amount of cans Koutarou has been lugging around in his backpack. Koutarou is then appropriately excited by the dry noodles Akaashi has hidden away in one of his backpack’s compartments.)

They’re wandering around Minato to refill their supplies because Akaashi really wants some more duct tape, and Koutarou is feeling good. The air is clean, the sky is clear, the birds are chirping. It’s a little disorienting to hear birds chirping in the middle of Tokyo, but ever since civilization stopped existing here, the wildlife has returned to some capacity. 

Koutarou holds up a stapler he finds when they’re looking for duct tape. “This may not be the best weapon,” he’s saying to Akaashi, “but if I manage to take out a zombie with this, I’ll look damn cool.” 

Akaashi gives him his best deadpan look. Koutarou would probably rate it a seven out of ten (one being, ‘I’m not bothered at all!’ and ten being, ‘I wish I had that stapler in my hand so I could beat you upside the head with it’). “What!?” Koutarou throws the stapler back onto the desk, exasperated.

“I’m wondering if next time it’ll be worth saving you.”

“Akaashi!!!!!!!” 

Even though he says mean things, Akaashi doesn’t mean them. Koutarou knows this because every time he whines Akaashi’s name the other man’s mouth turns upwards in a half-smile, which is pretty much the Akaashi equivalent to a loud round of laughter. Koutarou sighs at the fantasy of hearing Akaashi laugh. He wonders what it sounds like. Probably like a Disney princess singing or something equally pleasing.

“Grab that stapler, staples might come in handy later.”

So they’re honestly having a great time. And obviously, that’s when things go downhill. It starts with a single zombie. Which is how this entire pandemic started, so Koutarou probably should have taken it more seriously. As it was, he grabbed his hammer from where he left it sitting on the desk with the stapler and swung it at the ugly thing’s head. It crumpled, and he smashed it until it stopped moving completely. That was when Akaashi’s head suddenly whipped up and he cocked it like a dog might. 

“Shit,” was all he said before he was grabbing Koutarou’s wrist and pulling him out of the building, the same way they had entered. Koutarou barely had time to look behind them (and see an incredibly terrifying horde of at least ten zombies) before Akaashi was pulling him around the corner of a building, still in a dead sprint. 

Fortunately, that corner-turning yielded a museum front that had a door that was cracked open. Unfortunately, once they wrenched their way into the museum and got the door closed behind them, they were met with guns in their faces. How these people got guns is beyond Koutarou (there can’t be a lot of guns in Tokyo, the process is too long. What is this, America?), but now they’re exactly where they started: helpless and about to fucking die. 

“We don’t want trouble,” Akaashi immediately says, putting his hands in the air. “We’ll just leave and be on our way.” Koutarou wonders if, like him, Akaashi is thanking all of the gods above that they left their bags back at the convenience store. The only things they have on their persons are a few random food items, some water bottles, and their weapons. The four red skittles in Koutarou’s pocket seem to burn as the people holding them at gunpoint glare at them.

They look menacing. But mostly, they look hungry. Koutarou refuses to feel sympathy for them: everyone’s hungry. And right now, Akaashi needs him to be menacing, too. Despite his racing heart and constricting lungs, Koutarou schools his face into the scariest expression he can think of. Kuroo always said that he has “serial killer eyes” or whatever that means, so he gazes at them blankly, tilting his head a bit and hoping it comes off as unhinged. By the way one of the people in their group inches away from him, he thinks it does. 

“Come, Bokuto-san. I think it’s time to go.” Akaashi starts backing up towards the door.

“Don’t fucking move!” A tall man yells, pointing his gun closer to Akaashi’s chest. Akaashi freezes, eyes widening slightly but not making another pass for the door. “Don’t move! Where is your stuff?” 

“All we have is what you see,” Akaashi says. Koutarou wonders how his voice is so steady. 

“Bullshit! Where’s your stuff? You got a community out there? I’m sure they’ll pay for your safe return.”

“I’m sorry, but all we have is what is on us. We were out looking for more food when we were attacked by some zombies. We ran here to hide.” 

Koutarou wants to corroborate the story, but he can’t bring himself to speak. It’s getting harder to breathe. The room they’re in is too small for him and Akaashi and the four people glaring at them, and his throat feels like it’s getting smaller and smaller. Akaashi is still speaking with the tall man, who looks like he’s getting agitated. Koutarou is really starting to panic now, he thinks someone might be sitting on his chest even though he’s standing up. He opens his mouth to try and yawn but nothing is entering his lungs. 

He wants to yell to Akaashi for help, but he’s beyond words right now. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Koutarou faintly hears one of the people in the back of their group ask.

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi is at his side, and Koutarou gasps for air, pointing to the ground. Sometimes lying down helps. Akaashi helps him down while the people holding them at gunpoint just gape at the scene. “Bokuto-san, what can I do?” Koutarou just tries to suck air into his lungs, chest heaving with the effort. All he gets for his efforts is a horrible whistling sound that he knows is coming from his constricting throat.

“I think he’s having an asthma attack,” someone from the group faintly says. 

Akaashi just looks more distressed at that, fluttering his hands around Koutarou. “What can I do? What can I do!?” Koutarou thinks Akaashi might be asking their captors, but he’s not sure. Right now he’s trying to focus, trying so hard, but his vision has started to swim. Fuck. Now he's going to die and leave Akaashi alone to die at the hands of these schmucks. Fuck. 

“Don’t just stand there!” Akaashi’s wail bursts through the fog in his mind, and Koutarou wonders if once he passes out from lack of oxygen Akaashi will trade them some of the stuff in his bag. He has all sorts of good things. Rubbing alcohol, medicine, canned food. 

Wait. Medicine. 

Koutarou grasps at Akaashi, fingers catching on the lapel of his jacket. Akaashi’s face is immediately in his view, and Koutarou hopes he sees that he’s pointing to his own jacket pocket. There’s an inside one that might save his life. 

Akaashi seems to get it, because suddenly he’s pawing through Koutarou’s jacket pockets as Koutarou gasps fruitlessly for breaths that refuse to come. “Bokuto-san!” Akaashi yells as he fumbles with something in his hands. He puts it up to Koutarou’s lips and he inhales, tears of relief springing to his eyes when air whistles into his closing throat. Koutarou brings up his hand to grasp the emergency inhaler from Akaashi and he shakes it, then administers another spray of medicine into his mouth on autopilot.

Koutarou splutters on the floor, hacking and trying to fill his lungs with beautiful, crisp air. Akaashi sits next to him, his hand resting firmly on Koutarou’s shoulder. After what feels like forever, Koutarou finally catches his breath. He tightens then loosens his grip on the inhaler, shoving it into his inside jacket pocket and taking a few more breaths before standing up. The dangerous people are gone.

“Bokuto-san --” Akaashi starts, but Koutarou shakes his head.

“We need to get out of here first. Then I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Okay, ‘Kaashi?” 

Akaashi nods, avoiding his gaze as he stands too. “Let’s go before they come back.”

Koutarou knows he should be more worried than he is: he lied to Akaashi by omission, and they might have died because of it. But also, Akaashi hasn’t let go of his hand ever since they left the museum. Koutarou curls his fingers tightly around Akaashi’s large hand, and Akaashi consciously or subconsciously squeezes back, eyes not leaving the streets as they make their way back to the convenience store. Akaashi is being extra cautious, taking a roundabout way back to the store so that if the museum people are following them they can lose ‘em. 

Akaashi is being silent, which isn’t really anything new for him, but is also slowly making Koutarou worry more. He’s not an idiot: he knows that Akaashi is basically a stranger. The other man has said nothing about himself or his life before the day they met, and he always talks in facts and possibilities, never in emotions. So to say that Koutarou is nervous about their upcoming conversation is an understatement, because he really doesn’t know how the other man will react.

Akaashi gently pulls Koutarou to the floor once they make it inside and barricade the door. His grip on Koutarou’s hand loosens but doesn’t leave as they sit on their knees facing each other. Koutarou takes it as an encouragement and resolves to hold onto Akaashi’s sweaty hand for as long as he can. 

“You probably have questions, ‘Kaashi,” Koutarou says bashfully. Akaashi visibly swallows. 

“I...could you tell me about it?” 

Koutarou knows what he means without him saying it. His cheeks burn with shame despite the fact that he knows this day (this explanation) would have to come eventually. “I have chronic asthma. It was really bad when I was a kid. I’d have attacks all the time. Triggered by exercise, dust, shouting. Everything, it felt like. I’ve mostly grown out of it. But I still have triggers. Ones that are...evident during a zombie apocalypse.”

“Like what?” Akaashi asks. His face is carefully blank.

Koutarou can’t meet his gaze, and he tugs his hand away to brace himself on the ground. “Stress. I used to have panic attacks as a kid because of how scary my asthma attacks were, but now I get asthma attacks from my panicking. And poor air quality, sometimes, and too much vigorous exercise. I could usually last a whole volleyball game but if it's a particularly bad day then sometimes even a little exercise will be a trigger.

“I’m sorry, Akaashi,” he blurts. “I know I should have told you. I just didn’t want you to dump me like some kind of trash. I wanted to stay with you.”

“Is your asthma why you wanted to stop by the hospital?”

Koutarou nods sheepishly. Akaashi is so smart. “I wanted to grab some bronchodilators. In case I ran out.”

“Did you find some?” 

Akaashi’s question startles him, and he grins widely as he nods. “I even found a few more emergency inhalers! Pretty great, huh?” Akaashi is silent, his face unreadable. Koutarou sobers up and the smile slips off his face. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. And I get it if...if you want to leave without me. I won’t fight you on it! I promise! I can go whenever you want me to. I know asthma in an apocalypse is kinda a death sentence, and lugging me around with you is a death wish. And I’ll be sad to leave, but if you wanted me to I’d--”

“I was so scared.” Akaashi’s voice abruptly cuts through Koutarou’s rambling. “I thought I was just going to sit there and watch you die. There was nothing I could do,” he clenches his fists at his sides, voice harsh. Koutarou winces. 

“They ran when I asked them for help,” Akaashi says quietly. “I think your attack probably saved our lives.”

“I’m sorry--” Koutarou starts again, trying to make the darkness in Akaashi’s eyes dissipate.

Akaashi turns his gaze to Koutarou, the intensity startling him into silence. “I never want to feel that helpless again. I never want you to feel that helpless. Watching you... _gasp for air_ …” Akaashi takes a hitching breath. “Look. I know we’ve only been partners for a few days. But if anything happened to you….”

“I’d tear the entire world apart,” Koutarou says gently, placing his hand over Akaashi’s on the ground. 

Akaashi swallows and nods. “Yeah.” 

“Akaashi? I’m sorry if I’m ruining the moment, but can I kiss you?” 

The dark-haired man’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “Yeah,” he consents softly. 

Koutarou leans forward and presses his rough lips to Akaashi’s. The kiss is gentle, both of them inhaling the heat of the other person for the first time. Koutarou thinks back on how gentle Akaashi’s hand was as he rubbed his stomach when the water made him sick, the look in his eyes when he thought Koutarou was going to die, and he hungrily deepens the kiss. Akaashi raises the hand that isn’t holding Koutarou’s and threads it into his hair, responding to Koutarou by slipping his tongue into his mouth. 

They make out for what could be ten minutes or ten hours (probably closer to ten minutes if he’s being logical) before Akaashi pulls away, eyes slipping over Koutarou’s features before he starts trailing kisses along his neck and jawbone. Koutarou wonders if this thing with Akaashi is just because of the convenience of their proximity or if Akaashi actually might like him, but when Akaashi slips his hand down his pants he realizes that he really doesn’t care. If Akaashi wants to use him for sex, he’ll gladly volunteer. He can work out his complicated feelings later. For now, the most pressing matter is Akaashi’s body pressing closer to his.

Their clothes stay on out of fear (Koutarou does not want to be caught by a zombie with his pants down) but Akaashi proves that he doesn’t need to get Koutarou naked to give him pleasure. Though Koutarou realizes that the reason he’s enjoying this so much is because it’s Akaashi. Akaashi’s pretty eyes framed by long eyelashes, Akaashi’s quick fingers, Akaashi’s coy grin, Akaashi’s tendency to nip at Koutarou’s lips. He figures that, to Akaashi, this is just a means to an end. Koutarou might not mean anything to him. But then Akaashi grabs his face and kisses him sloppily, chasing his thoughts from his mind.

And holy shit, does he not mind.

Bokuto insists that it’s unnecessary, but Keiji decides that they need to spend the next day resting instead of travelling. It’s not like they’re in any kind of hurry, and Bokuto’s attack from yesterday still plagues Keiji’s every waking (and sleeping -- he had woken up a few times in fear that Bokuto had stopped breathing) thought. 

So they spend the day collecting more water, finding tape and other helpful supplies, and looking for food. They’re running low, they maybe have enough for them to eat for another two weeks if they ration it intelligently. Keiji wants to make sure they never hit under a week’s worth of food.

Ever since yesterday, Keiji hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of Bokuto. Every time he looks away all he can see is Bokuto’s lips turning blue as he hopelessly gasps for air, his hands gripping wildly at the space in front of him and that awful whistling noise permeating his wheezes. That night, Keiji had made Bokuto show him where all of his backup inhalers were. 

“Which ones are bronchodilators?” Keiji had asked, spreading out their medicine. 

Bokuto had pointed to a few. “Just remember these ones. They’re beta-2 agonists, so they’ll be quick-acting and relax the muscles around my throat. It’s easy to remember, ‘Kaashi, see? They both start with an ‘s!’” 

“How do you know all of this?” Keiji had asked. He knew of some treatments for his own affliction, but he didn't know half as much information as Bokuto seemed to.

“I’m a paramedic, remember?!” Bokuto had gotten a prideful grin on his face, pointing at himself with his thumb jammed into his chest. Then he had deflated. “Well, I _was_ a paramedic. So I know lots of random things!” 

Keiji had marvelled at the odd man that he had partnered up with. “I’d hardly call specialized emergency medical knowledge random,” Keiji had said. How had he managed to find the most simple-minded yet useful person in all of Tokyo? Not only could Bokuto fight for himself (through sheer brute force, mind you, but force nonetheless), but he also had explicit medical knowledge and was surprisingly astute when it came to life or death situations. Despite his debilitating asthma, Keiji feels incredibly lucky to have him at his side. 

Whenever Bokuto catches him looking, he just flashes Keiji his thousand kilowatt smile, which instantly puts him at ease. 

That’s another thing. After their night of...passion? Romance? Fuck-buddying? Bokuto hasn’t let go of his hand. Not that Keiji’s complaining. He likes the warmth of Bokuto, and the other man even let him keep his dominant hand available for quick attacks. He isn’t really sure where Bokuto stands on the topic of their sexual encounter the other night, but he takes the hand-holding as encouragement. To be honest, Keiji isn’t really sure where he stands either. Getting too close to people can be dangerous. Enemies can use your connection against you and caring too much can get you killed. The loss could be devastating. 

But Keiji hasn’t felt this good in a long time. Messing around with Bokuto for a few hours the night before did wonders for his psyche, and he hopes that they can do it again if only to keep their spirits up. 

“Akaashi! We’re in Hiroo!” Bokuto is pointing to a sign. Akaashi gazes up at it. 

“Yes?” 

Bokuto looks excited. “It’s a fancy residential area! Maybe there’ll be nice beds for us to sleep in!” 

Immediately, Keiji realizes how wonderful that sounds. Sleeping in a bed? A soft, expensive, clean bed? That’s unheard of. But it looks like if Bokuto is willing to attempt to find the impossible, then so is he. “Wanna try that one?” Keiji points to an apartment complex a few blocks away. It’s maybe five stories and quaint, and hopefully isn’t occupied. 

Bokuto is quite literally bouncing up and down, pulling Keiji along by their interlocked hands. “It looks perfect!” As per usual, Bokuto is too loud, but Keiji doesn’t have the heart to stop him. Plus, they’re in such a wide open space right now that he highly doubts anyone or anything could pinpoint their exact location. 

They walk into the building through the broken glass in the lobby, Keiji keeping his eyes peeled for zombies. Bokuto has let go of his hand so that he can wield his own weapon, and they venture deeper inside. The lobby was once nice, Keiji can tell, but now it’s littered with bodies and blood. He points Bokuto towards the stairwell and they pry the door open as quietly as they can. Unfortunately, it’s not quiet at all and they both stand frozen as they wait to see if anything heard them.

After a minute or so of nothing, Keiji beckons Bokuto to follow him and they venture up the stairs. He figures that they should try and get as high up as possible without wearing themselves out too much, since the higher floors are less likely to have been pillaged. That means that they make it to the third floor before they’re both getting too tired to keep going on their measly diets. 

Keiji signals to Bokuto to check the left side when they enter and that he himself will check the right, and Bokuto sends him a thumbs up. Keiji slides the door open and they jump inside, quickly checking the main room for any threats. There are no immediate ones, and Keiji knocks his bat against the wall to see if anything comes running. He can hear a scraping sound from below them, but nothing else. He turns back to Bokuto. “Looks clear, but keep an eye out.”

Bokuto gives him a one nod affirmative. Together, they go deeper into the apartment. Bokuto looks like he’s never been in a place so nice, and Keiji has to admit that he hasn’t, either. The walls are a nice wood and all of the decor is incredibly sleek. Bokuto stops to admire the view that they’re granted through huge windows in the front room, and Keiji joins him, grabbing his hand. Bokuto startles a little but just grins, then points out the window. He says something that Keiji doesn’t catch. “Sorry, what?” He turns his gaze from the view to Bokuto.

“It looks so bare,” Bokuto repeats. 

“If it weren’t for those people we ran into yesterday, I’d say that we were the last living humans in Tokyo,” Keiji responds. And it’s true. Those people were the first ones he had run into in a long time. The experience leaves him hoping that they don’t run into anyone again soon. 

“Wanna look for the bedroom?” Bokuto has a mischievous smile on his face, and Keiji returns it. 

“Lead the way.”

Bokuto makes his way deeper into the apartment, stopping before a closed door. He eases it open, checking for threats, before pulling Keiji in. They both stop short.

Keiji’s seen a lot of death. But for some reason, looking at the bed and seeing the dead people lying there makes him feel sick.

They’re obviously a couple: a man and a woman, the woman curled tightly in the man’s arms. He holds her just as tight. Their bodies are badly decomposed, but the sickly sweet smell is something Keiji has learned to ignore as much as possible. Bokuto, on the other hand, is retching in the corner. The couple could just be asleep, if not for the knife slices in their throats. The woman obviously bled out first, as the man is still gripping the knife from where he slit his own throat. Keiji wonders exactly how much willpower that must take to slit your own throat, then immediately realizes that he doesn’t want to know.

“Bokuto-san, come on,” Keiji reaches for the other man’s hand, gripping it firmly in his own. Bokuto is wiping at his mouth, face still a bit pallid. Bokuto can’t rip his eyes from the couple until Keiji drags him from the room, sliding the door shut behind them. Bokuto’s eyes find his, and Keiji can see the fear in them: _that could happen to us._

“We won’t let it,” is Keiji’s reply to Bokuto’s silent fear. He then leads him to the kitchen. If the couple killed themselves a few months ago, which -- looking at the bodies -- they might have, there might still be food in their apartment. 

“Can we find somewhere else to sleep?” Bokuto asks. Akaashi thinks back to the dead couple. Tonight, visions of them curled together in one last embrace will join the nightmares of Bokuto dying from suffocation.

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts!!
> 
> \-- I don’t write smut it’s just a thing I don’t do and so all of my “sexy” scenes are literally three paragraphs of vague descriptions and honestly I just think it’s funny at this point whenever i have to reread them for editing -- I hope you all can see the humor too lol
> 
> \-- I know way too much about bronchodilators and beta-2-agonists thanks to a physiology lab i took last semester so i decided to flex my knowledge through bokuto i hope you are appropriately wow’d by my infinite knowledge (jk i barely remembered anything about beta-2-agonists and accidentally referred to them as antagonists before editing -- which do NOT do the same thing as agonists lmao their interactions with receptors are completely different)
> 
> \-- This is the first time I’ve ever attempted Bokuto POV, so I hope it wasn’t too ooc! I relate to Akaashi a lot more irl, but Bokuto was incredibly fun to write (ex: literally making him break the fourth wall bc I feel like Bokuto would do that all the time in his head just for kicks). I used so much more creative punctuation with him and had a good time trying to make his voice unique from Akaashi’s. I hope it worked!


	4. control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The travel partners get closer and something about Keiji is revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh we are SO CLOSE to finally seeing other characters lol!
> 
> I still have 2-3 more chapters to write (originally 2, but I accidentally wrote too much for 8 so now we might be at 11. shh don't quote me) but hopefully I can crank them out before classes start so that I can still update weekly! 
> 
> Chapter song is [Control](https://youtu.be/so8V5dAli-Q) by Halsey
> 
> Un-beta'd!

After a near-sleepless night in a beauty salon, Keiji wakes up to Bokuto grinding against him. Bokuto’s eyes are half-lidded, his white hair falling in his face, and in the morning sun Keiji thinks he looks beautiful. He wrestles Bokuto’s pants to his ankles, ripping down his worn underwear and marvelling at all of Bokuto. He goes down, hard, drinking in every single moan and gasp that he elicits from his partner’s mouth. 

Despite how loud Bokuto is, Keiji treasures these moments where he’s quiet, channeling his energy into pleasuring Keiji right back. Bokuto runs his hands up and down Keiji’s back, cupping him gently. Bokuto finishes in Keiji’s mouth, and he isn’t sure how many calories are in semen as he swallows, but is sort of hoping there’s some just for the principle of the thing. He thinks he read somewhere that it has some kind of nutritional value, and the thought makes him smile. Bokuto’s cum can be his daily multivitamin.

Bokuto captures Keiji’s lips in his, no doubt tasting himself in Keiji’s mouth. They make out for a while, Bokuto stroking him until he gets off, too, his large hands a comfort and a vice. They waste a lot of time in the morning trading lazy kisses and getting each other off a second time, but Keiji can’t bring himself to care. He’s denied himself the comfort of another person for too long, so he’ll take it when he can get it. In Bokuto’s arms, the world is still.

Keiji’s starting to think that Minato isn’t so bad.

He rethinks that thought when they turn the corner during a food run and catch the attention of a pack of zombies. 

There’s no time to think. Just barely enough time to move. 

He rips his hand from Bokuto’s, shoving the other man behind him.

He grips his baseball bat tighter.

He winds his bat back, swinging and hitting the nearest zombie. The bat hits its head with a solid _thwack,_ like an overripe pumpkin smashing to the ground. After a second whack, blood and brain matter splatter over the side of a building and embed themselves in Keiji’s hair. 

He raises the bat over his head and takes down another. 

There’s two coming at him at once. He sees one coming from head on, one to his left.

Keiji lashes his foot out at the one to his side, making it crumple to the ground as his foot connects with its knee with a sickening click. The one in front of him goes down with another swift kick.

He slams the butt of his bat into the zombie’s face as it crawls towards him. Its eyes ooze from their sockets, still twitching. Something spurts up to hit him in the jaw and he wipes at it subconsciously. 

Behind him, he can vaguely hear Bokuto finishing off the zombies Keiji downed, the perfect partner. 

There’s another one in the alley, growling at him from his right, and Keiji slams the zombie into the wall of the alleyway. It growls and gnashes its teeth at him. They’re ugly. All of the zombies are. Half decomposing and half mummified from the sun, they stumble around on limbs that barely work and a will only powered by their hunger. They lurch at everything that moves, chew on anything that bleeds, gargle at the things that confuse them. The one that he has pressed against the wall looks right at him, but Keiji refuses to look away as he repeatedly slams its head into the bricks, his fingers gripping onto its slimy hair. 

It’s still reaching for him as he thrusts its head back over and over. Some kind of sluggish liquid is running through his fingers and into his jacket sleeve. Its eyes are still moving wildly, its mouth gaping as it tries to eat him, so he continues to slam its head into the bricks, closing his eyes and yelling in frustration as he does. Finally it stops struggling. “Fuck,” he murmurs, breathing out a sigh of relief.

He hopes with all of his heart that there isn’t anyone inside this rotting corpse. 

_“Shit!!”_ Bokuto yells, and Keiji lets the limp zombie crumple to the ground as he turns to look at Bokuto.

“What is it?” But he’s just finished asking when he notices the horde of zombies making their way towards them, a few blocks away. “Let’s go!” Keiji yells, grabbing Bokuto’s wrist and pulling him with him. Keiji isn’t sure where he’s running, but anywhere has to be better than here.

“Akaashi!” Koutarou abruptly stops and the force of it makes Akaashi jolt against his arm. He noticed a doorway that they could hide in, knowing that they can’t run forever. Akaashi follows him inside, slipping his hand from Koutarou’s wrist to intertwine their fingers. His palm is slick with sweat and blood, a remnant of the horrifying things Akaashi had just done. Koutarou is thankful towards him all the same.

They walk deeper into the building and Koutarou realizes that he dragged them into a high school. It looks almost exactly like his: long hallways with short ceilings, classrooms with small numbers written above the doorways, lockers lining the walls. It’s eerie, to see it stagnant like this. It fills Koutarou with the irrational urge to scream and cause a ruckus, like he might have back when he was in high school. He longs to hear his old friends yelling down the hallways, to cower at the teachers reprimanding them for being too loud, to watch the blushing confessions by the lockers between classes. 

He swallows back sick when he sees a few smaller, student-shaped bodies strewn across the halls. It reminds him of the couple they found in the apartment. They’re all still where they’re supposed to be, but it’s all so _wrong._

The way this high school feels reminds him of that one scary video game, the one with the blood and big-breasted anime girls and magic talismans and corpses and the scary dude with the TV in the supply closet. He feels like at any minute something is going to jump out at them and end their lives. They’ll just be another one of the stupid video game students who ventured a little too far in a place where they really shouldn’t have been. 

All of his senses are on hyperdrive, so he almost jumps a yard into the air when Akaashi taps him on the shoulder. _“You okay?”_ He mouths, and Koutarou nods and swallows thickly. He almost forgot that Akaashi is here too. The thought makes him ten -- no, twenty! -- times braver. They’ll be fine. They’ll make it out of this, because they need to. Because Akaashi needs to.

And then a gaggle of zombies appear to their left, in a big hallway. 

They don’t see them (Koutarou isn’t really sure that zombies can actually see -- they rely on their ears and vibrations), so the two of them freeze in the middle of the hallway. Akaashi tugs on his hand and they walk ever-so-slowly into a nearby classroom. 

It’s not a normal classroom: it looks like it’s used for science labs. There are big lab tables around the room, with knocked over stools and broken beakers littering the floor. They walk quietly, but Koutarou steps on a test tube, causing a loud crunch to reverberate around the room. 

Akaashi sprints to the other side of the room furthest from the door, dragging Koutarou with him. He lets go of his hand, ducking behind a lab bench and slowing his breathing. Koutarou takes the lab bench behind him since there isn’t room enough for both of them to crouch behind one, trying to make his heart calm the hell down. He doesn’t succeed, because next thing he knows four zombies are venturing into the room, sweeping their heads from left to right and shuffling their feet.

“What’s our next move?” Koutarou whispers, trying not to make much noise. He’s scared that the zombies will hear him. They seem to be sensitive to sounds bouncing off of surrounding items, and he doesn’t want to give them a target. Akaashi doesn’t even look at him. 

“Akaashi?” He calls out, a little louder but still a whisper. He knows Akaashi would have to have heard him: they aren’t very far away from each other. But the other man doesn’t even twitch in acknowledgement. 

“Akaashi!” He risks raising his voice higher, and Akaashi finally turns. 

“Did you say something, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asks softly, his voice barely audible. 

“I’ve been trying to get your attention! Akaashi, are you okay?” He asks, inching his way towards his friend. 

Akaashi nods, wetting his lips and avoiding eye contact. He doesn’t turn away from Koutarou, though. Koutarou realizes that he never has, not while Koutarou is speaking to him. “What is it?” 

“I was wondering what our next move should be,” Koutarou whispers, carefully watching Akaashi’s face. His eyes flicker to Koutarou’s mouth when he talks. He doesn’t think he’s ever noticed that before. 

“I was thinking that we try to divert their attention to the corner of the room. There are plenty of things to throw, and if we keep it loud enough we might be able to sneak by.” 

Koutarou nods in comprehension, but his mind is still stuck on Akaashi. They’ll revisit it later, when they aren’t in such a compromising position. He’d make sure of it. In the meantime, Koutarou needs to focus. He’s worried for his friend, but Akaashi is fully capable. He’s proved himself many times.

“On my mark.” They both pick up some debris from behind the lab table. Koutarou has a pair of goggles and Akaashi is gripping a broken beaker. “Three, two, one, throw!” He whispers, and they chuck their items to the opposite side of the room. That immediately sets the four zombies in motion, all of them staggering to find the source of the sound. Akaashi grabs his wrist and they bolt, picking their way as quickly as they can through toppled desks and strewn school supplies. 

They’re just getting past the gym and hopefully out of there when Akaashi pitches forward, shooting his hand out to grip Koutarou’s arm. Akaashi’s hand is clammy and his breathing is hitched. 

“Akaashi?” Koutarou turns to his partner, trying to assess the situation as quickly as possible. What happened in the minute between escaping the science room and running into the gym? Akaashi just gasps for breath, dropping like a rock to the floor. “Akaashi, not here!” Koutarou says desperately, acutely aware that there are likely zombies behind them and in front of them, and the gym is way too wide open for them to stop here. Akaashi doesn’t move, and Koutarou looks around quickly before zeroing in on what looks like a large supply closet. It has two doors on it, and he drags Akaashi over to it before checking inside. 

It’s clear of any movement and he wastes no time dragging Akaashi into the storage closet before shutting the doors behind them, barricading them with the heavy poles of a volleyball net. He turns to Akaashi, who is curled up on the floor and seems to be trying to breathe in deeply through his nose, exhaling through his mouth. Koutarou recognizes the pattern: it seems like Akaashi is trying not to throw up. 

“Akaashi?” He kneels down, placing his hands on Akaashi’s shoulders. In the light offered by a small window, he can see Akaashi’s eyes moving wildly and violently from side to side. Koutarou isn’t sure that Akaashi can see him. “Akaashi, you’re scaring me, tell me what’s happening,” he says, fighting to keep his voice steady. Is Akaashi going to die right here and now? Is he having a stroke? Will they be able to get out of this? All of his medical knowledge is slipping through his brain like water through an open fist, and he wants to sob. God, they never should have entered the school.

Akaashi presses his hands to his temples, letting out a low but loud moan. Suddenly his head snaps up and he starts crawling around, swaying unsteadily on his hands and knees as he does. “Move, move,” he mutters, and Koutarou does as he says, stepping out of the way. Akaashi finds what he’s looking for in the form of a bucket of baseballs, and he promptly vomits into it, trying to be as quiet as he can but failing between involuntary retches as he frantically gasps for air. Koutarou makes his way over to his partner, rubbing his back and wiping sweat from his brow. 

Akaashi continues vomiting whatever might be in his stomach, which is admittedly not much. Bokuto mourns the lost calories for him. Akaashi’s grip on the bucket slips and Koutarou catches him before he falls into it. He holds Akaashi as the other man gags up bile, and when it seems he doesn’t have anything left he lets Akaashi wriggle his way out of his arms and curl back up on the floor, holding his head.

“Bokuto-san, you have to go,” Akaashi mumbles, his eyes squeezed shut in pain and his hands grabbing at his ears. “You have to go and leave me here.” 

Koutarou finds his chest gripping at the thought. “What? No! Akaashi, we promised to stick together.” 

“For as long as we could help each other,” Akaashi grits out, eyes still clenched closed. “I have lost my usefulness. You need to go while it’s still light.” 

“I’m not leaving you ‘Kaashi,” Koutarou sets his jaw. 

“Dammit Bokuto-san. I can’t...argue with you like this. Now get the hell out of here before I end up killing both of us.”

Koutarou can’t take his eyes off of Akaashi, his face pale and sweaty but his voice strong as he tries to get him to leave. He can’t help but be a little angry at his travel partner. 

“And what if they find you? What if you die?” He asks hotly, fists clenched at his sides.

“That I can live with! I wouldn’t forgive myself if I got you killed.”

“Shh!” Koutarou and Akaashi are silent as they listen for any sounds that Akaashi’s outburst might have attracted. Luckily, none come. Koutarou turns on his feet, pointing fiercely at Akaashi still writhing on the floor. “Fuck you, Akaashi. Even when I’m being useless, you refuse to leave me. You aren’t allowed to ask me to leave, not when you wouldn’t. So fuck you. We’re staying right here.”

Koutarou plops down next to Akaashi, watching his friend open his mouth to say something and then start dry heaving again into his empty, cupped hands. Some saliva dribbles from his mouth and into his waiting palm. 

Once he’s finished, he starts the deep, controlled breaths again. Koutarou has never been good at sitting in silence, but Akaashi’s obvious discomfort fills the empty air. 

“It’s vertigo,” he says quietly between breaths. “It’s been getting progressively worse since all this.” 

Vertigo. Koutarou vaguely recognizes the term. “So you’re dizzy?” 

“Everything is spinning. I don’t know which direction is up,” Akaashi explains. “I have trouble seeing and hearing, and I often get sick, which you saw.” 

“Why do you have a vertigo?”

Akaashi chuckles a bit. “Not a vertigo, just vertigo. Weren’t you a paramedic? I--” he turns his head towards Koutarou, which is apparently a bad idea because he’s dry heaving again.

“We can talk later,” Koutarou starts, but Akaashi holds up a hand. 

“I’m good.” He wipes at the saliva around his mouth. “I have a condition called otosclerosis.”

Koutarou mouths the word, but he’s already forgotten it. He was never good at the textbook part of becoming a paramedic. There’s a reason he was also studying math. He’s much better at application than definitions (at least, that’s what the people in the special considerations office told him). 

“It means that I have extra bone growth in my inner ear. My dad had it, too. It impairs my hearing and messes with my balance. My dad had surgery to fix it, but that's not an option for me now, obviously.”

“What does that mean?” Koutarou thinks he knows, but the thought scares him. Akaashi might have a lot more trouble trying to survive in a world where he can’t rely on his ears.

“I’ll likely go completely deaf. My growths are persistent and aggressive. I probably have a few more years before it happens.”

“Will that be enough time for me to learn sign language?” Koutarou wants to know, and it makes Akaashi laugh.

“Oh, Bokuto-san. You’re too kind for this environment. I’m sure I’ll die before you need to worry about learning sign language for me.” 

Koutarou opens his mouth to argue, but gets distracted when Akaashi places a sweaty palm on his shoulder. “I think it’s letting up. We can go soon. Is our stuff gathered?” 

Koutarou nods, knowing that they didn’t unpack anything in the first place. “How long does one vertigo usually last?”

“Just vertigo. My attacks usually last anywhere between five and thirty minutes. Long enough to get me and everyone in my group killed.”

“...Is that what happened before you found me?” Koutarou asks quietly. 

“No. I never had a group to begin with, precisely for this reason. I’m a liability. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Well if you are then I am too!” Koutarou puffs out his chest and stands up. “Plus, you’re like the coolest person ever! You kill zombies with staplers!”

“Still not gonna let that go?” Akaashi is smiling a little now, which is difficult to achieve on a day when he hasn’t thrown up multiple times in the past thirty minutes. Koutarou feels so accomplished.

“It was pretty cool,” Koutarou reminds him. He removes the volleyball poles as Akaashi regains the last of his bearings. “Are you ready, ‘Kaashi?” Akaashi struggles to his feet with Koutarou’s help. 

“Let’s get going,” he says, wiping his tongue on his shirt sleeves with obvious disgust. “Blech. We need to get somewhere safe so I can wash my mouth out.” Akaashi grabs a metal bat from his pack before pressing his palm to the door. “You ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be!” 

“Good. We need to find shelter as soon as possible. I’m dreaming of a large, soft bed.”

They don’t find a large bed, but they do find a futon curled up in some businessperson’s office -- presumably, someone who worked too hard and spent many nights in the office. They curl up as close together as they can, Koutarou’s arms wrapped firmly around Akaashi as they lie in the darkness. To Koutarou, the darkness is the most disconcerting part of being in Tokyo. In a city where the lights are never off, seeing it completely darkened fills him with dread at the harsh reminder that this really is the end of the world. Or at least, the world as they knew it.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. His voice vibrates through his back and into Koutarou’s chest. 

“Hmm?”

“You’re thinking too loud.”

“Sorry, ‘Kaashi.”

“Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah, ‘Kaashi?”

“Why didn’t you leave me behind today?” 

“That’s a dumb question.” 

“Humor me.”

Koutarou tightens his grip on his partner. “Because when I said that I would tear the entire world apart if something happened to you, I meant it. Which means that leaving you behind….I can’t even fathom that.”

Akaashi is silent for a moment. “Bokuto-san, if we find your friends...will you leave me behind then?”

“Never,” Koutarou whispers harshly into Akaashi’s neck. Akaashi shivers. The thought has never occurred to him that he might want to leave Akaashi if they ever met up with Kuroo and Kenma and Daichi. Leaving Akaashi would be just as hard as leaving his friends. They’ve been through too much already. (Does Akaashi really think that Koutarou will leave him? Not for the first time, he wonders who hurt his travel partner.)

“Will you come with us, if we find them?” Koutarou asks timidly.

“Of course,” Akaashi whispers in the darkness.

They’re silent for a few pregnant moments. “Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“I’m really glad you saved me from that zombie with a stapler.”

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts!
> 
> \-- This is the second fic I’ve written with a HOH character. Recently, this has become a huge subject in my life, and I am nothing if not someone who throws their own problems and life experiences into their art. The first fic was a Daisuga one that features a lil kid HOH Chika!
> 
> \-- The scene with Akaashi suffering from vertigo was one of the first scenes i ever wrote for this fic (even before I finished Chapter 1). 
> 
> \--Akaashi’s hearing is still pretty ok right now -- he has trouble with lower pitches and whispered words, but so long as he can see someone’s lips as they talk, they’re super close to him, or they’re like Bokuto and yell most of their words, then he can pass as Hearing. Also, a common effect of otosclerosis is being able to hear fairly well (or even better) in noisy environments. This is thought to be because of the high frequency and loudness of voices in such scenarios. So, in an angry zombie horde, Akaashi would be just fine.


	5. far from home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we see some new faces...is it a good or bad thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! You're seeing this update a few days early because next week is EnnoTana week, which means I'll be posting something every day (including the usual update day for this fic). So here's an early update! Please consider supporting the amazing creators who are taking part in next week. Here's a link to the [collection](https://t.co/H1qvDuaErL?amp=1) that you can check out any time! 
> 
> Chapter song is [Far From Home](https://youtu.be/dMHhiMxGLU0), also by Five Finger Death Punch (the voice + heavy rock sound just works so well for this fic)
> 
> Anyways I've been super excited to share this chapter with you all, so here it is! Un-beta'd, excuse mistakes!

After taking the time to appropriately tag up as much of Minato as possible, Keiji and Bokuto decide to keep moving south. It’ll take them a few hours before they get to Shinawaga, and that’s only if they don’t encounter any problems. Keiji isn’t ignorant enough to think that they won’t. The odds are incredibly high, especially as their list of complications increases. Right now, they’re as follows:

\- Bokuto’s asthma, which does not allow for sustained running or escapes

\- Keiji’s own afflictions, which could kill them with one ill-timed attack

\- The human raiders, who are getting increasingly violent. Keiji and Bokuto can hear them at night, yelling and breaking into places and laughing. If they thought Tokyo was void of humans before, they definitely don’t now.

\- The zombies, which seem to be getting more abundant by the day. Keiji is still trying to make sense of this: there can’t be a lot of humans left in Japan, so where are these zombies coming from?

\- Bokuto’s mood, which has continued to decline as the days go on. Keiji figures he can attribute that to the length of days that stretch between now and his separation from his friends a few weeks prior.

\- The river, which is rendered useless to them since they abandoned their boat a few miles north and the journey back to get it isn’t worth the risk, especially when they don’t have an exact destination in mind.

-The infinite traffic jams that line --

“‘Kaashi? Akaaashiiiii,” Bokuto’s loud voice breaks through his concentration. He blinks and looks over at his partner, who looks a bit worried. “You okay?”

Keiji nods, taking hold of Bokuto’s hand and squeezing it. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“You’re thinking too hard,” Bokuto says lightly, swinging their hands as they walk. He suddenly stops walking, a smile that Keiji has never seen before creeping over his face. “I know. I know what’ll help you stop thinking.”

He lets go of Akaashi’s hand and swings his pack off of his back. Keiji watches with mild amusement as Bokuto makes an exaggerated face, sticking his tongue out and squinting one eye as he digs his hand into his bag. Then he produces it with a cry of triumph. He shows Keiji his prize, and Keiji immediately looks away, taking a sip from his water bottle to distract him.

“No.”

“But Akaaaaashiiiiiiiii,” Bokuto whines loudly, waving the blunt in the air enticingly. “C’mon! It’ll be fun!” 

Keiji turns to his partner, giving him his best deadpan look. “Bokuto-san, are you seriously proposing that we smoke weed in the middle of an apocalypse?” 

Bokuto shrugged, a wide grin on his face. “If I die, I’d rather die high.” 

Keiji groans in exasperation. “Bokuto-san, have you forgotten that you have _asthma?_ I’m fairly positive smoking will not improve your condition.”

“Actually,” Bokuto puts one finger in his air as if he’s a scientist explaining a hypothesis, “marijuanna has immediate bronchodilating effects.”

“Yes, and it’s still putting foreign bodies into your lungs which already do not work properly.” 

Bokuto sags. “But Akaashi! C’mon, we’ll be safe and have a good time.” 

Keiji glares. “No. And I am not budging on this. Now put that thing away. Bokuto-san? Are you even listening to me?” 

Bokuto has turned away from him and is staring at some buildings a little ways away.

“Hey now, you can’t just pout every time I say no to you, I only say it because it’s the best chance of survival for both of us.” Bokuto still doesn’t move. “Bokuto-san?” Keiji reaches out a hand to touch his shoulder, actually afraid that he’s upset the other man. 

“Akaashi, do you see it too?” Bokuto’s voice is quiet and low, and Keiji tries to follow his line of vision. 

“Do I see what?” 

Bokuto points, and Keiji looks at the building he’s pointing to. There, on the side of it, is a tag. It’s just a few words written in red: “Hey hey hey,” but they’re familiar enough to make Keiji pause. 

“Is that...is that yours, Bokuto-san?” 

Bokuto shakes his head, looking dazed. He wants to ask more, but it looks like Bokuto is still processing. If he waits long enough, he’ll get a response. Sure enough, after a handful of seconds Bokuto turns to Keiji, eyes wide and face disbelieving. “That’s Kuroo,” Bokuto whispers. “Kuroo was here!” 

Bokuto is immediately in motion, shoving the blunt into his backpack as he rushes over to the tag. He pulls out his own spray paint and quickly sprays, “Oya oya,” after the original three words. 

“So that he knows we were here, too!” Bokuto’s eyes are shining. Keiji can’t blame him. Here it is: honest-to-god proof that his friend was once alive in south Minato. 

“Is there any way to tell how old the paint is?” Keiji asks, but Bokuto shakes his head.

“And I don’t know if they would stick around or not. Probably not.”

“Bokuto-san, did you four talk about any kind of meeting place? Somewhere you would find each other again if you ever got split up?” 

Bokuto shakes his head again. “Not here in Minato. There was someplace in Shibuya, but Kuroo only told Kenma about it. Kenma was supposed to tell me, but….” They got separated. 

Well that was poor planning on everyone’s part. But it’s too late to be mad about it now. Keiji wonders if his face looks just as frustrated as Bokuto’s does right now; he can’t imagine how the other man must be feeling. To stand right in the spot where his missing friend once stood, too late. 

Keiji’s eyes wander back to the spray paint. “Um, Bokuto-san? Is that arrow part of his signature?” He points to a spray-painted red arrow with a circle around it in the corner of the wall. It’s pointed down at the ground. Bokuto immediately crouches down to look at it, then he excitedly turns to Keiji. 

“The metro!” He yells, and Keiji stares at him in confusion. 

“The metro?” 

“That’s the arrow that’s always on the signs in the metro! If they’re still in Minato, that’s where they are!” 

Keiji’s still confused, and more than a little wary, but he’s loath to dim the brightness in Bokuto’s eyes. “Okay. So, uh, where’s the nearest metro station?” He raises his head and immediately sees a sign pointing one out. “There,” he says, raising a finger at it. 

“Let’s go! Kuroo might still be here!” Bokuto is a ball of energy, running as quickly as he can to the station. 

Keiji follows him, wondering what might await. If the sign is from Kuroo, then he must know Bokuto well to know that the excitable man would've seen the arrow and immediately thought of the metro. He wonders how many “Hey hey hey”s Kuroo sprayed throughout Tokyo, adding tiny encircled arrows in hopes that his friend saw them and ventured into the metro to look for his separated group. He also wonders how many people recognized those arrows before Bokuto, and who stumbled upon the unknowing artist and his friends. He wonders why Kuroo would take such a risk.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto’s excited voice breaks through his musings.

Ah. Keiji understands now.

“Down here!” Keiji follows Bokuto down the steep steps and into the darkened tunnels of the metro. The steps are littered with debris that is too strategically placed to be random. Someone has definitely made their home down in the metro tunnels, and he hopes it’s friends rather than foes. They hoist themselves up over concrete barriers that someone rolled down the stairs and crawl under large pieces of debris that look like they came straight off of an avant garde art exhibit or something. Near the bottom of the steps is a long strand of string with aluminum cans tied to it. It’s near impossible to see, and Keiji barely brushes it to make the entire thing rattle. He winces. It probably isn’t great to alert strangers of your arrival so loudly. 

Once they reach the bottom of the steps, there’s enough light filtering in through the openings of the tunnels that the entire underground is shrouded in dark grey. Keiji can only see a few feet in front of his face, and he realizes that the obstacle course on the stairs was not only to keep out zombies, but to alert anyone in the tunnels of outsiders entering. Keiji’s suspicions are confirmed when he smells sulfur. A fire has recently been put out. 

They’re not alone. 

Keiji instinctively reaches out to grab Bokuto’s hand, but Bokuto is no longer standing next to him like usual. Instead, the other man is stumbling around in the dark somewhere in front of him. 

“Bokuto-san! Give your eyes time to adjust!” Keiji hisses at him.

Suddenly, flashes of light appear somewhere to Keiji’s left and right, and the tunnel is illuminated in a flickering glow. They’re two firepits, unattended. Keiji feels incredibly unsettled. He looks ahead, where Bokuto is standing frozen and staring at a figure as it emerges from the shadows, its shape inhuman. Keiji curls back, but Bokuto only tilts his head. He can only see half of Bokuto’s face from where he’s standing and because of the weird shadow dancing across it, but Bokuto is smiling.

“Ohoho?” Bokuto says, the grin on his face widening. 

“Ohohoho!” A response echoes through the metro tunnels. Bokuto is being crushed in the arms of the figure, but it looks voluntary so Keiji only takes a few tentative steps towards them.

Keiji startles when he realizes a small man has materialized at his side. The man has brown hair with blonde tips, and his focus is on a book that he holds in his hands, his hair falling like a curtain around his face. The book has a tiny reading light clipped to it, and the light is so dim that Keiji can't imagine it will last past the hour. His posture indicates that he doesn’t see Keiji as a threat, and he seems to be asking if the same courtesy could be extended to him. Keiji gives him the benefit of the doubt. “Just give them a second. They always have to trade idiot calls.” 

“OYAAAAAA!” One of them sobs. At this point, Keiji honestly can’t tell who’s yelling what.

Keiji looks back at Bokuto, who is still enveloped in the arms of a new person, some guy with wild dark hair and an ugly crying face. 

“Kuro, cut it out. Once you get started you don’t stop,” the small man says, his voice lacking inflection but his words making the tall man pull back with a loud sniff and a protest.

“Hey! You’re just jealous that you didn’t get to hug Bokuto first.” The tall man returns to his embrace with Bokuto.

The small man sighs. “For the last time, I don’t care about getting a hug from Bokuto.”

“Kenmaaaaaa!” Said hugger whines. “I thought you loved me!!!!!” The name sparks familiarity, and Keiji can finally officially place the newcomers: Kuroo and Kenma, Bokuto’s old group and supposed best friends. 

Kenma doesn’t grace Bokuto with a response, just turns the page in his book. Keiji idly wonders what he’s reading. 

“I saw your tag!” Bokuto cries, excitement obvious in his voice. 

“I saw _your_ tag!” They hug again, and Keiji wonders how much more of this he can take. It’s an odd reunion, and includes a lot more choked “Bro!!!”s than he had originally imagined. Kenma looks unaffected. 

“Where’s Daichi?” Bokuto asks once they pull back from their fifth hug, looking around and bouncing on his toes. Keiji internally winces at the obvious absence of a third person as Kuroo visibly deflates. “You don't mean…?” 

“We got split up a few days ago, during a hoard. Daichi got swept away. He was yelling that he’d find us, but….” Kuroo trails off, his meaning obvious. 

Bokuto looks troubled, and Keiji reaches out to take his hand. He squeezes it, reassured when he feels a squeeze back. Kenma is eyeing them with interest but he doesn’t comment. “He’s a good fighter,” Kuroo says. “There’s a chance he made it out.”

“It didn’t look good,” Kenma says gently, his book hanging at his side.

“Kenma--” Kuroo turns to his travel partner, who shuts him up with a look.

“We can’t discount the theory that Daichi might not have made it out.” He turns to Bokuto. “But we also don’t have to lose hope. Kuroo and I were going to stick around a few more days to try and find him.”

“We’ll help! Right, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto turns to Keiji for permission, as if he might say no.

“Of course, Bokuto-san.” 

“Depressing thoughts aside, Bokuto, are you going to introduce us? Is he your prisoner or captor?” Kuroo asks it with a humorless smile.

Bokuto looks miffed by the thought. “Neither! This is my friend, Akaashi!” 

“Akaashi Keiji, pleasure to meet you. Bokuto talks about Kuroo and Kenma a lot,” he inclines his head towards both of the new men. 

“Well I would hope he would mention us,” Kuroo leans against Bokuto’s shoulder, causing his friend to grin at him. “We are his closest friends, after all.” He leans into Keiji, who lets go of Bokuto’s hand to shuffle back. There's something about him that unsettles Keiji, and it seems like Kuroo notices.

“How did you two meet?” His eyes are bright with intelligence and interest. It makes Keiji wary. 

“‘Kaashi saved my life!” Bokuto looks over at Keiji with that star-struck look that always makes him sweat. 

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji says shyly, avoiding eye contact. 

“He whacked a zombie to death with a stapler!” 

Kuroo turns his dangerous eyes to Keiji. Their intensity burns. “Did he, now?” If Keiji were a lesser man, he would cower. 

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s done the same for me.”

“Akaaaaashiii!” Bokuto grins, completely oblivious to the tension between Kuroo and Keiji, and the focus successfully goes back to his louder counterpart. He uses the distraction to latch back onto Bokuto’s hand. It’s a bit pathetic, how he never wants to let go. 

Bokuto quickly forgets the compliment as he turns back to Kuroo. “What happened to you guys after we got split up? Did you look for me?” 

Kuroo and Kenma glance at each other. “We stayed in Shibuya for about a week, but after that we couldn’t stay. We started traveling towards the river, hoping that if you were still alive that you would head that way too.” 

“Man! We must have just missed each other! I looked everywhere in Shibuya. And then I went north!” 

“North?” Kuroo looks confused by this.

“Yeah, ‘cuz you guys talked about finding Daichi’s family in Miyagi.” 

Kuroo blinks. “Shit, Bo. We talked about that six months ago, but decided that unless we could find reliable transportation it wasn’t worth it.”

“Oh. I didn’t think it was that long ago.” Bokuto deflates a little. Then he seems to remember Keiji’s hand. “But then I found Akaashi! And he wanted to go towards the river so we could go south.”

Kuroo looks interested again. Keiji is slowly starting to hate that look. “Oh? Why the rush to go south?”

Keiji crosses his arms, letting go of Bokuto’s hand again in the process. There’s just something about Kuroo that ruffles his feathers. “I wanted to get out of Tokyo. Or at least out of the super urban parts. And the Kanda river runs south. It was our best bet to leave Shinjuku quickly.” 

Kuroo must notice his defensiveness, because he puts his hands up slightly in an act of surrender. His cruel grin suggests otherwise. “Smart,” he remarks. His eyes are full of mischief, but unlike Bokuto, it’s dangerous. Keiji bites down on the inside of his lip. 

“Kuro, stop baiting him,” Kenma says offhandedly, already returning to his book. Keiji and Kuroo break their staring match, both of them startled.

“Wha--? I’m not--” 

“Yes you are. Now quit it, he brought Bokuto back to us.” That shuts Kuroo up, and he grumbles something unintelligible under his breath. Keiji suddenly has a lot more respect for this tiny man who can boss Kuroo around without a second thought.

“We’ve set up camp for the night. How about we eat and discuss our plans going forward?” Kenma looks carefully between Kuroo and Keiji, trying to gauge their reactions to his suggestion. 

Keiji is mildly impressed. He thought that Kuroo was in charge, but he’s quickly realizing that it’s actually Kenma that they all listen to. He feels a lot more at ease knowing that there’s someone keeping Kuroo in check. 

“Fine,” Kuroo grumbles, but he perks up considerably when Bokuto nudges his shoulder against him, grinning and immediately pulling him into a conversation about how his tagging has been going. Kenma’s eyes slide over to Keiji, and Keiji nods slightly. He isn’t sure how exactly this new partnership will work, but he knows he’s got to try for Bokuto. 

Kuroo lights a fire in a makeshift fire pit a few yards from their reunion spot. He and Kenma have a synchronized way of doing things: Kenma tosses Kuroo the firestarter, Kuroo makes it spark, and Kenma feeds it kindling. Then, once it's started up, Kuroo adds the bigger pieces of debris to feed the fire. Bokuto is absolutely delighted by their "campfire" and immediately settles himself near it, pulling Keiji with him. He keeps looking between Kuroo and Kenma, murmuring, "I can't believe you're here."

For dinner, Keiji and Bokuto break out a can of green beans and a packet of peanut butter crackers, Bokuto supplying the crackers and water and Keiji carving open the bean can. He notices Kuroo and Kenma watching them closely, but Bokuto doesn't seem to realize the two extra sets of eyes. He grins widely and leans into Keiji as he sticks his fingers into the can. Keiji bats him away, scolding him lightly. 

"Juice first, Bokuto-san," he says with a familiar smile. "Then you can eat with your dirty fingers."

Bokuto sighs but grins, gesturing for Keiji to take the first swig. He does, enjoying the sweet taste of the green bean juice. He hands it off to Bokuto, who greedily drinks the rest. Then he holds out the can, letting Keiji take the first scoop of beans. 

Kuroo and Kenma are similarly sharing their meal, some kind of dried meat or something similarly tough-looking. Bokuto is still looking at the duo with stars in his eyes. 

“So what’s the plan?” Keiji decides to break the silence by directing his question to Kenma. 

“We’ve divided the city up by quadrants. Let me dig out our map,” Kuroo leans forward to grab his bag and produces a folded up paper map. He slides it around the fire to Keiji. Keiji unfolds it and he and Bokuto take a look, noting the areas with squares drawn around them, most of them with small ‘x’’s in the corner. “Obviously we haven’t been able to look as in depth as we hoped, but we can’t afford to stay here much longer. The looters are getting worse in Minato,” Kuroo says, looking troubled. 

“But now that we have four, we might be able to get it done quicker. Maybe stay here two more days, max.” Kenma adds. 

“Have you been splitting up?” Keiji asks. 

Kuroo shakes his head. “Too dangerous. You and Bokuto can pair up, since you don’t know what Daichi looks like.” The insinuation is obvious: they’re looking for Daichi dead or alive, and they need someone who is able to identify him even if he’s just a body on the side of the road. 

Keiji purses his lips and nods. “We can do that.” Their beans and crackers are gone, and Keiji sets their trash aside, saving the can for future use. Empty aluminum cans are priceless noisemakers. “Do you have a watch schedule set?” 

Kenma shakes his head. “Our noise traps always wake us.” 

Kuroo shoots him a sly look. “But you’re welcome to stay awake if you’d like.”

Keiji doesn’t deem that necessary of a response and instead turns to Bokuto and kisses him sweetly on the cheek. “Where do you want me to set up the blanket?” 

Bokuto legs bounce a little with content from their crossed position. “Wherever you think is best, ‘Kaashi!” His smile is so endearing that Keiji has to press one more kiss to the corner of his mouth before reaching into his bag and unfurling the small blanket in there near the fire, but not too near it. With Bokuto’s insane body heat, it’s in both of their best interest to avoid extra warmth. 

Bokuto’s being incredibly touchy and loving, and not for the first time Keiji realizes that his partner is much more observant than he lets on. He obviously feels the thick tension between his old group and new one, and his over-the-top shows of affection seem to be for Kuroo’s benefit. It’s as if he’s saying, _“Hey! This person right here is important to me, you should accept him too!”_

As Keiji tries to fall asleep in Bokuto’s arms, his mind is spinning. When it was just him, or even when it was just him and Bokuto, everything was simple. Move south, see what happens from there. But with Kenma’s ever-strategizing brain, the odd animosity that now exists between him and Kuroo, and Daichi’s unplanned absence, there are too many unknowns. 

The world is tilting. Keiji doesn’t sleep at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts!!!
> 
> \-- Full disclosure I had written all of chapter 6 and most of 7 before I started to tackle this one. Idk why I found it so hard to write
> 
> \-- So i did whatever I do when I get intense but fleeting writer’s block...I got super drunk and wrote my heart out (I am of legal drinking age in my country and I drank responsibly :D). When I read over this chapter in the morning for editing I realized that I had randomly created a rivalry between Kuroo and Akaashi but then I realized...I liked it? So now I’ve fleshed that out and one day you will find out why there’s so much animosity (no, they did not know each other before this moment. I briefly considered that, though. Would’ve made for a cool backstory).
> 
> \-- While I was drunk I also visited my outline (and while I type the actual story on google docs I physically write out my outlines and keep them in a journal) and completely re-outlined the last two chapters with a desperate black pen (for reference, my outlines are usually in pink and orange pen) and now they’re….actually kind of good? I’m happy with them? There’s accidentally a chance for a sequel now? So weird. Anyways, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter that I wrote completely shitfaced. Let me know what you do to combat creative blocks?


	6. run boy run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good thing Keiji's a fast runner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh so this is a tad early due to the fact that the next chapter will be posted early too because....next week is Tsukkiyama week!!! Currently I'm suuuper behind in writing the stuff for next week (my internal monologue is currently: ahhhhhhhhhhhh) so I truly need to focus on trynna get my shit together lol. I loved writing this chapter so I hope you enjoyed it too!
> 
> Chapter song: [Run Boy Run](https://youtu.be/lmc21V-zBq0) by Woodkid
> 
> Un-beta'd!

Keiji must have dozed at some point, because when he wakes the fire is a lot smaller and there’s drool dried onto his cheek. He wipes at it, gently extracting himself from Bokuto’s grip. 

“Keiji?” Bokuto murmurs, cracking an eye open. 

“Shh, I’m going to go out and get some more water. If I’m not back before the fire goes out, then you can worry.” He presses a kiss to Bokuto’s hair as the other man hums, eyes trained on the fire as if he’s trying to work out how long it will burn.

“Want me to come?”

“No, sleep,” Keiji says, quietly standing and grabbing a smaller bag from his backpack. He slips on his outer layer of clothes and a jacket, then fills the small bag with empty water containers. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispers. Bokuto is always so soft when he first wakes up, and Keiji has to force himself to turn away so that he won't be tempted to spend the next hour in his arms.

“Be safe,” Bokuto’s sleepy voice echoes in his mind as he squints at the top of the staircase leading down to the metro. He remembers seeing a few promising businesses around the metro that likely have untouched toilets, so he starts there. 

Keiji is on his third business, about a twenty minute walk from the metro, when his bottles are almost all filled. He caps the third to last one, placing it in his bag before staring at the sky. He’s probably been out for forty five minutes, so he needs to be getting back soon before Bokuto starts to worry. The sun is slowly rising, bringing with it the loss of safety through hiding. 

He hikes the bag up higher on his shoulder, eyes scanning the streets as he picks his way back to the metro. There are a lot of abandoned cars around here and you never know what might be hiding in, behind, or under one. He hates traveling in places that used to be highly populated like this. He knows that there are probably tens of zombies lurking within the block, but he doesn’t see them so much as sense them. It makes him feel on edge. 

Keiji is so worried about the cars that he doesn’t look down, and before he can stop himself he’s tripping over a downed sign, causing a loud clattering sound to reverberate through the streets, bouncing off of the tall buildings and carrying all the way down the line of cars, loud enough that Keiji’s entire body freezes. He knows that he’s the prey, and he just broadcasted his location to the entirety of Minato. 

The first snarl breaks through the silence of his shock, and Keiji turns to see a small pack of two zombies making their way towards him. He knows he can take them, but before he can grab his bat another two join them, and then another. A growl comes from his left and Keiji stumbles backwards as he realizes that there’s another pack coming at him from the other direction. He’s too terrified to even scream. He just turns on his heel and bolts, his feet slapping noisily on the ground. 

All he can hear is the harshness of his breath as he turns corner after corner hoping to lose his tail. He turns one corner and sees another group of them, four or so, standing around and waiting for some poor Japanese Lit student to stumble upon them so they can have breakfast. Keiji turns around and takes a different route, the bag on his shoulder bouncing. He hopes that the straps don’t break. 

“Shit shit shit shit,” He repeats the mantra as he sprints away from the group of zombies. He can’t be sure whether they saw him or not, but he imagines their hands mere centimeters away from his ankles and darts between buildings until he thinks he might have lost them. He stops and turns, not seeing anything but faintly hearing a high-pitched garbled sound that signifies their closeness. Shit. Bokuto will be devastated if he dies. 

He’s about to start running again, his mind analyzing his options, when a high-pitched whistle sounds from above him. He whips his head up to see the top half of someone’s head poking up over the roof of the building. 

“Hey, you! Grab my stick,” the person says, and Keiji isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He can’t afford to. The person is dangling a curved walking stick over the edge of the building. Using the windowsills as leverage, Keiji boosts himself up high enough to grab onto the stick, pushing himself up as much as he can with the bricks while the other person lifts him. The building is only a few stories so it doesn’t take too long, and Keiji is flopping over the edge of the roof right as the alleyway he had taken residence in fills with zombies.

“Thanks,” he gasps, still catching his breath from the unwelcome game of tag he was just engaged in. He looks up at the person who helped him. It’s a man -- a very, very pale man -- with a shock of dark, cropped hair and wide eyes. His mouth is hard set and he’s sweating a lot. Keiji squints at him and realizes why: there’s copious amounts of blood all over his clothes and a tourniquet tied around his left arm. Well, around what’s left of his left arm. He still has his bicep, but is missing his forearm right below the elbow. It’s bloody and messy and red around the stump, which itself is wrapped in some kind of cloth. 

The man catches him looking and laughs breathlessly, looking maybe two minutes away from passing out. “Oh, this old thing? Happened a few days ago. Got bit, had to chop her off.” His wry grin turns into a grimace. “The bite didn’t kill me, but the infection will.” Keiji looks at him hopelessly, and the man just laughs. There’s no despair in his eyes, only a bit of pain and something akin to acceptance. Keiji has to swallow the bile rising in his throat. “Sorry I can’t help you get out of here. Thought I’d give you an arm up, though, so you wouldn’t die down there. We have a much better view from up here.” He looks out at the city, mostly obscured by taller buildings.

“Are you alone?” Keiji finds himself asking. In his mind, he knows he shouldn’t take on another stray. Bokutos-san is enough, and now they have Kuroo and Kenma to worry about, not to mention their missing friend if he isn’t dead yet. He can’t afford to watch out for this new guy, who probably won’t survive two more days without antibiotics. Keiji briefly wonders if himself or Bokuto grabbed some back at the hospital, but quickly realizes that he can’t get this guy out of here by himself. The dude looks like he weighs a lot more than him. The least Keiji can do now is make sure that this man doesn’t die alone. The guy sucks in a sharp breath, wincing.

“Nah, my friend who cut my arm off for me is here somewhere, but I’m not sure exactly where. I’m not strong enough to get up and look for him.” It says something about the state of the world that his sentence doesn’t even make Keiji blink. 

“How long has he been gone?” Keiji asks.

“Not even an hour. Good chance he’s okay.” The stranger’s blinks are getting longer, his words a little more slurred. “Look, ‘m not gonna be ‘wake much longer. Helpin’ you took my energy. Mind not robbing me blind?”

“I have everything I need, I don’t want your things.” 

The man’s eyes close. “Ah, thanks. Whass’re name, by the way?”

“I’m Akaashi Keiji.” 

“‘Ashi,” the man manages, humming. His breathing is steady even though the rest of his body sags. “‘M Daichi, nice t’mee….” The man trails off, breathing evening out. But Keiji is more awake now than ever. Daichi? As in Sawamura Daichi, Bokuto’s friend? Keiji doesn’t really believe it, but he also knows that the odds of finding someone alive in Tokyo who has the same name as their missing friend are close to zero. But shit. That means he can’t leave Daichi here, alone to probably die. His stupid conscience won’t let him. 

Keiji walks to the edge of the roof, surveying the city. Their escape options are improbable to succeed with just the two of them. The alleyways are plentiful but jam-packed with cars and other obstacles, like zombies. Getting Daichi through all of those alone is just not feasible. 

Keiji ventures closer to the man in question, analyzing his condition. He’s still sweating a lot, and when Keiji crouches next to him to place a hand to his forehead he has to pull it away quickly after. Daichi’s running a fever of at least 39 C, probably more, which means his mind is hazy at best, delusional at worst. He inspects his arm now that he’s closer and isn’t feeling any more optimistic. 

It’s hot to the touch and Daichi moans in his sleep as Keiji prods at it. Not only is the skin around it irritated and swollen, but it’s also streaked with red and it reeks. Definitely infected. 

_“Get away from him!”_ A voice shrieks, and Keiji jumps back from Daichi out of pure shock. His head whips towards the source of the voice as he stands quickly. Another man is standing there: he has a shock of silver hair peeking out from above a blue bandana. He has another bandana, this one brown, loosely tied around his neck, and yet another one (red) around his left wrist. He has a rather hefty pack on his back and large boots on, and holds what looks to be a large steel tailpipe in his right hand. His eyes are fierce and terrifying, making Keiji take an unintentional step back. 

“I meant him no harm,” Keiji starts, placing some distance between himself and Daichi as the other man moves to place himself between his fallen friend and the perceived threat. “We’ve been looking for him.” 

The other man doesn’t look amused. “Who are you?” 

“Akaashi Keiji.” 

“I don’t recognize your name, Akaashi-san.” 

“My friends. Bokuto, Kuroo, and Kenma. They were part of Daichi’s group, right?”

The man spares a glance back at Daichi when he interrupts their conversation with a low moan. Otherwise, he doesn’t stir. The man quickly turns his attention back to Keiji. “How do you know them?” 

“I teamed up with Bokuto after he got separated from their group. We recently ran into Kuroo and Kenma again, but by then they had gotten split from Daichi. We’ve stuck around in hopes of finding him.” Keiji nods his head to the unconscious man behind the defensive one. “What’s your name?” Keiji asks gently.

“Sugawara,” the man says curtly. His eyes are full of mistrust. “Call me Suga. How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

“I think my information is too specific for me to be lying,” Keiji says. “Plus, you need to get Daichi out of here before he dies. We have medicine. Antibiotics. I can help you bring him to our temporary base camp and he can be reunited with his group.” 

Keiji can see the wheels turning in Suga’s mind. He’s weighing his options, running through possible scenarios, making pros and cons lists in his head -- Keiji should know, he does the same thing. Suga must know that the situation is as desperate as Keiji figures, because there’s resignation in his expression as he turns to look at Daichi, dying from blood loss and infection on the rooftop of a two-storied building in the middle of Tokyo. 

Suga looks to Keiji. “Okay. What do you propose?” 

Keiji chances a look back out at the city. With three of them, their options increase tenfold. “West,” he says, turning back to Suga. “If we start going west, there’s an alleyway past the 7 Eleven that we can use to get back to our camp. That path will have the least amount of roadblocks and some extra exit strategies.”

Suga nods, mouth pressed in a firm line. “Now?”

“Now,” Keiji nods. 

They both move to Daichi, who stirs as they move to lift him. Keiji puts his arm under Daichi’s good one while Suga takes the injured side, wincing as Daichi cries out and drops his curved walking stick when they stand with him. Keiji scoops it up and returns to Daichi’s side.

“Sorry Dai,” Suga murmurs to him. “We’re gonna get out of here, okay? Can you walk with us?” 

Daichi grumbles something unintelligible but his feet start moving. He stumbles every other step, but it’s better than dragging him completely through the streets. 

The stairs are the worst part. Once they get down from the roof, they have to try and squeeze three people in a stairway meant for two at the most as they navigate a limp body down to the base floor. They’re lucky it’s a low building, but Keiji realizes that this was most likely the purpose. Once they’ve left the building, Suga scouts a few yards ahead before they drag Daichi to the next checkpoint, repeating the process with every block. It’s time-consuming, but also a necessary evil.

At one point, Suga lets out a surprised shout and Keiji leaves Daichi hanging halfway out of a car to help the other man take out a few zombies. Suga’s a good fighter, quick and decisive. Keiji is glad to be on this particular excursion with him, even if he is a near stranger. But honestly, who isn’t these days?

They take a quick break once they reach the 7 Eleven for water and for Daichi to catch his breath. He’s getting less lucid as time goes on, and Keiji worries that the fever is cooking his brain. They need to get him fever reducers as fast as possible, so they don’t rest as long as Keiji wishes they would. 

It takes an hour and a half to get back to base camp. Suga glances at him uneasily when Keiji stops at the top of a staircase leading down to the metro tunnels. “Is this safe?”

Keiji nods. “Kuroo and Kenma blocked it off well. It would take a miracle or a working brain for someone to get down these particular steps. Come on, Daichi needs medication as soon as possible.”

Suga grimaces and nods once, sharply, before they practically lift Daichi down the stairs. 

“Akaashi!” He hears once they hit the bottom. “Where have you been? The fire went out ages ago and I was--” Bokuto abruptly cuts himself off. “What happened to Daichi!?” 

“Help us get him over the barricade, Bokuto-san,” Keiji grunts, and his back aches as Bokuto helps him shoulder Daichi’s weight. They lift him up and over with extreme effort, and he stumbles into Suga’s arms once they get him to the other side. “Where’s Kuroo and Kenma?”

“Further back in the station,” Bokuto says as they clamber over the barricade themselves to join Suga and Daichi. “I’ll get them!” He bounds away, and Keiji takes his place back at Daichi’s right side. Suga is still gingerly guarding Daichi’s left. Loud footsteps echo through the empty station and Kuroo and Kenma appear from the darkness.

“Daichi!” Kuroo exclaims, running up to the half-conscious man and cupping his face to look at him. 

“He needs antibiotics and fever reducers now, Kuroo,” Keiji says, and Kuroo straightens up immediately. 

“Bring him back here, I’ll start rifling through the medicine to see what I can find.” They drag Daichi further into the metro station, where water is boiling over a fire hidden behind a wall. The fire’s been placed right under a vent in the ceiling. Smart. 

They set Daichi down against the wall as Kuroo reads through vial labels. “Kenma!” He calls, and the smaller man hurries over to the fire to read the labels over Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo displays three from him to choose from and Kenma nods along to Kuroo’s mumbles, pointing to one of them. “How much?” He asks, grabbing a syringe from Keiji’s pack and turning the vial upside down. Kenma mutters something to him and Kuroo inserts the needle into the vial, hands shaking. 

“Bo, you gotta do this,” Kuroo measures out the amount he needs into the syringe and hands it to Bokuto. “My hands aren’t steady enough. I hope he’s not allergic to penicillin,” Kuroo bites his lip as he goes back to rifling through Keiji’s bag.

Bokuto gently takes the needle and grabs Daichi’s right arm, straddling him as he gets up in Daichi’s business. “Hold his arm like this for me,” Bokuto demonstrates, and Keiji rests Daichi’s arm so that the crook of his elbow is visible to Bokuto. The paramedic rubs the crook of his elbow with an alcohol pad and barely lets it dry before he begins to flick a vein on Daichi’s arm. He places his thumb on the vein and holds the skin taut, then inserts the needle straight into the vein with precision and accuracy. He then compresses the plunger at a steady rate, one that seems inappropriate for the urgency of the moment, and once the medicine is gone he retracts it from Daichi’s arm, placing pressure on the spot where the needle was. 

“Kuroo, did you grab some fever reducers?” Bokuto looks back at Kuroo. The taller man sidles up beside him, a water bottle in one hand and three red pills in the other. “Akaashi, can you get me a bandaid from the backpack?” Keiji rushes over, fishing one from his backpack.

“Hey Daichi, I need you to open your mouth and swallow these, okay?” Kuroo is pressing the pills to Daichi’s lips, and the near-unconscious man opens his mouth just wide enough for Kuroo to shove the pills in. “Okay good, now I need you to drink.” Kuroo repeats the process with the water, and Bokuto tilts Daichi’s head back and runs a gentle finger down his throat to encourage swallowing. Daichi is just lucid enough that he swallows the pills, and then he immediately passes out. 

“Fuck,” Kuroo slumps against Daichi, pressing his forehead to his friend’s for a few brief seconds before pulling back and gently resting Daichi onto his side on the ground. “Bo, what now?” 

Bokuto chews on his lip, eyes scanning Daichi’s limp body worriedly. Keiji crawls over to him and holds his palm, rubbing the rough calluses as if that will soothe Bokuto’s unease. His back is still rigid, but his head gently thunks against Keiji’s in acknowledgement. “We have to keep an eye on him. Really closely, until his fever is lower. That’s what’s worrying me the most.” 

“What about his arm?” Keiji asks gently, still massaging his hand. 

Bokuto shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt him more tonight.” 

“But do we have to?” Keiji asks. Bokuto looks sick, and he hates himself for pushing, but Keiji knows he has to. “Bokuto-san?” 

Bokuto squeezes his eyes shut and nods, pressing his lips firmly together in a grimace. He turns to Suga. “Was he treated for shock?” 

Suga looks surprised at being addressed. “I-- yeah. After I cut his arm off, I elevated his feet and kept him as warm as possible. He became responsive after an hour or so.”

“Did you clean the wound?” 

Suga presses his lips together thinly. “I tried my best, but he couldn’t stop screaming and we weren’t in the safest place.”

Bokuto chances a glance at their friend. “Well, he’s passed out now. Hopefully he stays that way. If not…”

“Kuroo, your belt,” Keiji points to Kuroo’s pants, and Kuroo immediately understands, loosening his belt and pulling it from the loops. He hands it to Kenma.

“Make Daichi bite down on this if he wakes up,” Kuroo says grimly. Kenma nods. 

Bokuto pulls away from Keiji and crawls over to Daichi, who’s shivering in his sleep. He peels away the t-shirt around Daichi’s wound, causing him to groan in pain but not wake up. Bokuto’s face reveals that Daichi is not in good shape. 

“You. Kuroo,” Bokuto points to Suga and nods at Kuroo. “Could you two go outside and find some maggots? Collect about ten or so into one of our jars.” The two are out of the subway in seconds. “Kenma? Can you boil some water?” The man nods, grabbing a pot and water bottle.

Bokuto is staring at Daichi’s missing limb, his eyes large and watery. “Koutarou?” Keiji asks, placing a tentative hand on his lover’s shoulder. It jolts him back into motion.

“Sorry!” He wipes at his eyes. “Sorry. Keiji, can you find my cleanest tshirt and boil that in some water? Not the same water that Kenma is using.” Keiji nods, set to his task. He keeps stealing glances at Bokuto, though, worried. They’re putting a lot of pressure on him right now and he hopes that Bokuto can deal with the burden.

Daichi’s life depends on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts:
> 
> \-- This was one of the first chapters I ever wrote for this fic! Once I wrote chapter 5 I had to fix a lot of small things, but this chapter has been written since the beginning
> 
> \-- Also writing the entire gang working together to try and save Daichi's life is my aesthetic I love it sm
> 
> \-- I’m considering making this a series and writing about Suga and Daichi’s week-long adventure as an additional oneshot. It would be fairly gruesome and graphic (more than this fic, which is not very gruesome nor graphic compared to what it could be) and I’m honestly Daisuga trash. So let me know if you’d be interested?


	7. god was never on your side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suga tells our group some interesting information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the early update i promised! this means that there won't be one on wednesday; however, I'll be posting something every day for tsukkiyama week mon - sun (if i finish it all in time lmaoooo) if you still want to come and visit me :) 
> 
> chapter song: [God was never on your side](https://youtu.be/IJ5DWUu-MlE) by Motorhead
> 
> anyways enjoy this chapter i had a lot of fun writing it

Daichi survives the night. 

Keiji doesn’t think that any of them get any sleep, they all just huddle around the fire and watch as Suga sits with Daichi’s head in his lap, wiping at his face with a damp t-shirt. There’s one point where Daichi wakes up and starts screaming, hollering for people that are likely long dead, his eyes glistening with fever and his face twisted with pain. Keiji watches helplessly as his friends rush to his side, trying to quiet him before something unsavory gets curious and comes to look for the source of the sound. 

When light starts filtering down from the metro stairs, Keiji struggles against a sigh of relief. They’re not out of the woods quite yet, but he’s glad to see the new day. Even so, there’s a question that needs answered: what now?

“I’ve told Daichi about it,” Suga’s rough voice breaks through the heavy silence, “but he wanted to be reunited with you all before he agreed.” He isn’t looking at them, his eyes never leaving Daichi’s face, but Suga’s voice gains strength as he talks. 

“There’s a community. In Ota City. I’ve been a part of it since the start of everything. It was founded by a man and his grandson. We have a huge wall, and we’ve started growing food. We’re right on the river, so we can fish and we’re protected on one side. It’s not perfect, but it’s nice for being so urban.” 

“And who are you again?” Kuroo glares at him, but the effect is lessened by the exhaustion evident on his face. If Keiji were a lesser man, he would jump to Suga’s side just to piss Kuroo off. As it is, he’s grateful for the heedfulness. 

“Sugawara Koushi. Daichi and I ran into each other almost a week ago and decided to team up.”

“And why were you out here all alone, Sugawara-san?” His tone is unforgiving. “Did your precious community send you out on a solo mission?” 

Suga’s expression hardens, his grip on the damp t-shirt tightening. “No. I volunteered. We have scavenging troops, but we usually don't come out this far. I’m not as useful as some of our other community members, so I volunteered to do a preliminary scouting mission to see if Minato had resources that Ota doesn’t. I was on my third day when I ran into Daichi.” He looks down at the unconscious man as he says it. There’s a tenderness in his eyes that isn’t unlike the look Bokuto gives Keiji when he kills a zombie for him. 

“I had lost hope,” he says. “I never thought I would make it back to Karasuno, our compound. But Daichi grabbed my shoulder and told me to stand back up.” Suga’s eyes are glistening, and he wipes at them angrily with his sleeve. “So I did. He said that you three were out here somewhere and that he needed to find you, so that’s what we were doing when we got attacked.”

“What happened to his arm?” Kenma asks. They got the preliminary rundown earlier, but the tentatively hopeful atmosphere leaves room for more prying questions.

“He was bit,” Suga says bitterly. “Its teeth ripped through his jacket sleeve. I--. We--”

“Take your time,” Keiji suggests. 

Suga takes a deep breath in and lets it out. His eyes still haven’t left Daichi’s face, which is screwed up in an unknown pain, even in his rest. “When we were safe, he insisted that I cut it off. He made a tourniquet while I sharpened his knife.” Suga’s face is incredibly pale and haunted as he’s reliving the memory. “Do I have to go into detail?” He asks, voice small and high.

“No,” Kenma says easily. 

“You did a good job!” Bokuto comforts eagerly, noticing that the man is obviously distressed and close to tears again. It’s incredibly endearing, and Keiji can’t stop himself from taking and squeezing Bokuto’s hand. He flashes Keiji a wide smile in return. 

“But he almost died,” Suga whispers, almost inaudible. 

“He would have died for sure if you hadn’t made that decision! And hey, without antibiotics, infection was pretty much unavoidable,” Bokuto says it like it’s a fact of life, but it just makes Suga wince. 

“It was unavoidable,” Keiji reiterates. He hates seeing that look of defeat on Suga’s face. “He asked you to do it, and you did what needed to be done.” Suga’s bottom lip is quivering as he looks at Daichi’s pained face, but he nods slowly, trying to accept it. 

He looks up at Keiji. “If Akaashi-san hadn’t showed up, I don’t know what we would’ve done. Probably waited up on that roof until he died.” Suga breaks eye contact again. “I spent almost every day after that looking for you guys or for antibiotics. He was deteriorating so fast. I….” Suga shakes his head sharply. Then he takes a deep breath and looks up at all of them. His features have hardened considerably, and he looks a lot like the fiercely protective survivor that Keiji met on a rooftop not even ten hours before. 

“But that didn’t happen, did it?” Keiji nods firmly to the silver-haired man. “You found us. And he’s still fighting.”

The next day, Daichi wakes up.

“So tell us more about this Karasuno,” Kuroo huffs, his steps heavy as he drags Daichi behind them. After deciding that they were going to make the trip to Ota City, they had constructed a stretcher out of tarp and two long rods made from traffic sign poles. Keiji’s duct tape had come in handy to fasten the tarp to the poles, and they took turns dragging Daichi along on it (2 at a time) whenever he got too tired to walk or someone forced him to sit. Keiji quickly learns that Daichi is more stubborn than even Bokuto, so more often than not Kuroo is forcing him to lie down on the stretcher after ten or so minutes of walking. 

Right now, Keiji and Kuroo are on stretcher duty, so they’re walking side by side, shoulders brushing every few steps. Keiji had long before shed his coat, the exertion of dragging Daichi creating too much sweat for him to comfortably wear it. 

“It’s made up of mostly men, but we have a lot of strong fighters and defenders. Most of the people in the community are from Tokyo University or nearby satellite campuses, and we also have a few high school kids as well. I think that’s part of what makes Karasuno so strong. But we also have a good mix of teachers and professionals as well, which balance us out.” 

They think on Suga’s words. Keiji still can’t believe that they’ve managed to try and make things grow: the weather is quickly cooling. It’s honestly the only reason Keiji knows that time has passed. They have to be somewhere in autumn, and everything went to shit back in March. He has a feeling that Karasuno will be struggling to get their crops to grow now that the temperature is decreasing. He wonders what that will mean for their group.

“Oh, but it would be nice to know if you guys have marketable skills,” Suga mentions, looking a little nervous. “We have turned people away that were more of a liability than we bargained for. We send them off with supplies, but if you don’t contribute then you don’t stay. So if you have some kind of hidden talent or you did something useful before all of this, I can fight a little harder for all of you to stay in the community.” 

“We’re far from useless,” Kuroo grunts. Kenma hums in agreement. It’s evidence enough that they’ve survived this long. It’s in the way they walk, in the words they speak, in the set of their mouths. Suga knows this, too, so he doesn’t pry.

And that’s that.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Keiji asks later, not unkindly. 

“Just follow the signs,” Suga shrugs. He and Kuroo are on dragging duty. Daichi is pouting in his stretcher while Bokuto walks behind the rest of the group, trying to cheer Daichi up and distract him. He’s been having intense phantom limb pain, which Bokuto says might plague him for the rest of his life. Daichi doesn’t look too perturbed by that idea, but he’s definitely pissed that he’s been sent back to the stretcher. 

“Trouble up ahead,” Kenma notes, and Keiji unvelcroes his baseball bat. He looks back to see Kuroo handing his dragging pole to Bokuto. The rest of the group stops, poised to run in the case of an emergency, and Keiji and Kuroo descend upon the small pack of zombies ahead of them. There’s only three, so they can take them. 

“I’ll take the one on the left,” Keiji says as they grow closer. At this point the pack has seen their group and are stumbling to greet them. 

Keiji waves his baseball bat in the air, attracting them towards him. Kuroo uses a screwdriver and a metal pole to do his zombie killing, which is more effective if he can take them down one by one. The appearance of the zombie in the front is slightly jarring -- its falling-out hair is still hanging loosely from a bun, and it reminds Keiji of his older brother. He had always been the delinquent of the family, prompting Keiji to be the perfect son to make up for his brother’s supposed deficiencies. Yoshiro was far from deficient, though. He was the one who taught Keiji which manga were the cool ones, urged him to take the training wheels off his bike, cheered him on for every baseball game and cello recital. Sometimes, Keiji wonders what happened to him.

Keiji doesn’t hesitate to break the kneecap of the Yoshiro look-alike zombie, sidestepping it to wind back his hitter’s stance, slamming the bat into the incoming zombie’s face. The zombie falls with a satisfying thump and Keiji quickly turns to the Yoshiro zombie on the ground and finishes him off with the butt of his bat. Its bun falls to the ground. Killing them is the last compassion they will ever know.

When he looks up, Kuroo is standing and wiping his screwdriver clean of zombie brains. He looks impressed. “You sure know how to use that,” is all he says.

“Well I’d hope so,” Keiji says back as they return to their group. 

“Akaashi you’re so cool!” Bokuto fawns, kissing him on the cheek. 

Keiji blushes, pushing Bokuto off of him. “Too close, Bokuto-san,” he mutters. 

“Yeah, did you play professionally?” Suga grins, noticing how uncomfortable Keiji is. Keiji sends him a glare that Suga just laughs delightedly at.

“Oooh, professional baseball player Akaashi Keiji! Batting average .100!” Bokuto yells, slapping Keiji harshly on his back and making him stumble forwards. Kuroo gets a good laugh out of it.

“Bro, that’s like the worst batting average ever,” Kuroo notes.

Bokuto pouts. “I don’t play baseball, okay!?” 

“That much is obvious,” Kenma mutters. 

“HEY!”

Keiji swears to not to go crazy on the PDA anymore as he watches Suga and Daichi walk together, whispering into each others’ ears and lightly brushing their fingers against their necks and backs and hands.

“Just fuck already!” Bokuto yells after a few minutes of intensely charged air. Suga and Daichi immediately turn red, jumping a few feet apart.

“Nice, Bo,” Kuroo snickers.

“A little tact might be preferable next time, Bokuto-san,” Keiji suggests when Bokuto frowns. He immediately perks back up, bouncing around Keiji and stopping him so he can kiss him sweetly on the lips. 

“Akaashi, you’re so smart. I’m glad you found me.” Bokuto says this maybe ten times every day, but it never fails to make Keiji’s entire body flush with embarrassment and pleasure. Suga giggles at his reaction.

“No fair!” Kuroo pouts loudly. “I want to disappear for a few days and come back with a hot boyfriend!” 

“You already have a hot boyfriend,” Kenma deadpans. Kuroo groans and flops onto Kenma, who doesn’t even flinch or falter at the added weight, just keeps on walking. 

“But we didn’t go on a cool adventure to find each other! Finding love in an apocalypse, Kenma! Imagine how romantic that would be!” 

“No.”

Suga assures them that they’ll be welcomed to the community with open arms, but it doesn’t stop the nerves from churning in Kejii’s stomach as they approach the large walls of the compound. According to Suga, they spent months making the walls as quickly and quietly as they could out of lumber from a nearby distribution center. They were constructed quickly but strongly, and the top and bottom both had platforms so that sentries could stand watch over the compound from the top. 

The gates to the compound are large too, with sharp sticks jutting out from them and stilled zombie bodies littering the area surrounding them. There are various types of traps set up around the gates, from sharp sticks to deep holes to empty aluminum cans rattling in the slight breeze of the warm day. Keiji is already a bit impressed.

“Oi! Who goes there?” A voice from above yells out.

“Kageyama! It’s me, Suga! I brought some friends!” 

The guard who yelled at them stares at their group for a second, but he’s too far away for Keiji to read his expression. Then he nods and shouts something down to someone behind the walls. A higher-pitched voice yells something unintelligible back at him, and suddenly the gates are starting to open. 

“Hurry,” Sugawara ushers them towards the gates. “We don’t want anything unsavory following us in.” Once they pass the threshold, Keiji realizes that they’re now in a barbed wire prison. It’s a rectangle, about two yards wide and five yards across. Their group of six is comfortably packed inside. 

“Suga-senpai! It really is you!!” A ball of orange is bouncing around the outside of the cage too quickly for Keiji to make out any features on, but when it hesitates in front of Suga, he sees that it’s actually a short man with a shock of orange hair.

“Of course it’s him, dumbass,” the familiar voice of the guard from the wall says as he hops down from the ladder he was descending. “I wouldn’t have let them in otherwise.” He eyes them. “You brought them?” He looks directly at Suga, who nods. 

“I brought them.” This is something Suga told them about on the way here: if you say ‘brought,’ it means that you’re with friends. If you say ‘I’ve arrived with,’ it means that you didn’t bring these people voluntarily, or that you’re not sure if they’re friends or foes.

“He already said that a ton of times, idiot!” The orange-haired guy says, sticking his tongue out.

“I was just making sure, you absolute dumbass!” 

Keiji is expecting a fight when the first guard insults the second, but the orange-haired man just shrugs it off, grinning at Suga and co. “I already sent Lev to get Coach! He’ll want to know the whole story. Actually, I wanna know too! How did you get back? I’m so happy you made it! How did you not die?” 

Suga laughs good-naturedly despite having Bokuto’s elbow jammed into his ribs due to their current proximity. “Me too. I actually wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for these five.” He gestures back towards their little group. 

The orange-haired man’s eyes skim over them all before he leans in to stage whisper to Suga. “They have usable skills, right?” Keiji is a little offended.

Suga just laughs. “I wouldn’t have brought them here otherwise.” 

The orange-haired man sighs with relief. “Oh. Good. I hate it when we have to turn people away.” 

“Let me see them!” A sharp voice rings out from behind the orange guard, and a tall man with pale hair and fair skin marches towards their prison of barbed wire. Behind him, two people throw up their hands in exasperation, as if they were trying to restrain him and failed. “Is this all? Did you have anyone else with you?” He demands as he does a quick circle around their cage. His eyes are intense if not a bit crazy, and his voice is bordering on desperate. He looks exhausted and miserable. Keiji hopes that this isn’t “Coach.” 

“Tsukki, he’s not here,” the orange-haired guard says, oddly gentle.

“Don’t call me that!” The pale man whips his head to the guard. Keiji notices that one of the lenses of his glasses has a crack disturbing it. The frames are being held together with nothing more than duct tape and determination. He looks back at the group. “Did you run into any other groups? One that had a tall boy perhaps, with dark hair and freckles?” His tone is no-nonsense, but his eyes are wild with hope. 

“No, Tsukishima. Are you looking for Tadashi? What happened?” Suga is asking, looking increasingly more distressed the more the other man paces. 

The tall man -- Tsukishima -- visibly sags and buries his face in his hands. “Come on, Tsukishima,” the orange-haired guard says, grabbing his arm and leading him away. “Let’s go over here.”

“Kageyama, what happened to Yamaguchi?” Suga asks once they’re out of earshot, and Keiji assumes that this is the person Tsukishima was looking for.

“He left on a supply run a few weeks ago. They haven’t returned.” A dark, uneasy cloud exists over the group. They know what it’s like not knowing, hoping that your loved ones will come back but not knowing what happened to them in the meantime. Sometimes, you never get to know. Keiji wonders if that's what he himself would look like if Bokuto went missing and he wasn't able to go looking for him. Would he harass every single person that might have caught a glimpse of his body? Would he deflate like Tsukishima did, another piece of his heart crumbling away each time he hears that Bokuto is still missing? Keiji squeezes Bokuto's hand, grateful when he gets a squeeze back. He can't imagine the lengths he would go to in order to see his smile again.

“But why did he go out? He never goes on supply runs,” Suga looks confused. 

Kageyama’s eyes are dark. “Tsukishima’s group had been gone a few days too long, so he volunteered to go on the next run in hopes that they could find them as well. Tsukishima’s group came back the next day. Yamaguchi’s didn’t.” 

Suga closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to compose himself. His gaze returns to the direction where the orange-haired guard and Tsukishima walked off to. “I assume he’s not taking it well.” 

“He’s been like that with every group that gets back. So far, we don’t have any evidence whether they’re alive or dead.”

They wait in a heavy silence for Coach to come. Keiji desperately hopes that this isn’t an omen for the rest of their time here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts!!:
> 
> \-- I was 100% going to kill Daichi off...I even wrote this chapter with him dying. But then I realized that the rest of the fic would be forever plagued by his death (the grieving process takes at least 6 months, usually up to a year) and this story isn’t about losing a friend and living on for them. This story is about finding something to live for, for yourself. So his death would’ve distracted from the main reason I wrote this story. Also the idea of killing him off made me super sad so I just...didn’t, lol. Therefore, you all get the second version of this chapter: alive Daichi!!
> 
> \-- I have a ton of sideships in this fic, many of which get little to no attention at all or that arent very expanded-upon. Lo siento, for I am a weak person who just loves ship cameos with all my heart. All of these cameos will be tagged! Bc I am weak! 
> 
> \-- Akaashi Keiji in baseball pants. That is all.


	8. house of the rising sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've finally made it to a community, but will they be able to build a life here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Wednesday my dudes! I've missed this story tons, so let's jump right back in! 
> 
> Song Chapter:[House of the rising sun cover](https://youtu.be/sm2tgFNtkSQ) by Lauren O'Connell
> 
> Un-beta'd, sorry for mistakes!

“Sugawara,” a man approaches their cage, eyes glinting with mischief and interest. His hair is held back by two thick headbands, but if it was left to hang loose, Keiji figures it would almost brush his shoulders. Everyone looks years older because of this apocalypse, but if Keiji has to guess he’d say the man is in his twenties or thirties. “It’s good to see you, kid,” the man reaches his hand through the cage and brushes his fingers through Suga’s hair. “How was Minato? Looks like you found yourself a few friends.” 

Suga’s grin is sincere and full. “Minato was busy, Coach. I’m not sure it’s completely fitting for our usual scouting trips.”

“Maybe east, then,” the man grins, his eyes finally skimming over the rest of the group. “So, how did you folks meet?”

After Suga finishes telling his tale to the man, they’re let out of the cage. “To the showers,” Coach, who introduces himself as Ukai Keishin and glowers at anyone who calls him ‘Coach’ to his face, directs them. “Of course, you’ll be accompanied and checked for bites and infection. If you have any fresh wounds, you’ll be quarantined for a week.” He eyes Daichi, who is very obviously missing a limb.

“That happened a week ago,” Suga says, noticing the direction of his gaze, and Ukai nods slowly. 

“Sure,” he says, already turning away. “Once you’re cleared and clean I’ll meet with you all again so we can find you assignments.” And Ukai is gone, leaving four guards in his wake, who introduce themselves as Tanaka, Nishinoya, Komi, and Washio. They’re led to the bathhouse, which looks like it was once a small business garage. Bathtubs are scattered around, including a few bathtubs fashioned out of concrete and tarps. There’s a few drains in the floor, which explains why they made this the bathhouse. 

The guards check them as they undress, and they’re thorough but clinical. Other than Daichi’s obvious injury, the rest of them don’t have fresh wounds and they’re allowed to bathe in relative peace. Keiji washes Bokuto’s hair in exchange for a vigorous back scrubbing, marvelling at the fact that even though the water in the tubs is cold, the soap is plentiful and when they leave the tubs they’re cleaner than they’ve been since the beginning of everything.

“Say, Suga,” Kuroo jeers, “why is it that you call Ukai, ‘Coach?’” 

A grin overtakes Suga’s face. “When everything first started, it was a mess. A few of us went to the same university, and we were stuck in the library. We were cornered, sure we were gonna die. And then out of nowhere this guy in a horrible red tracksuit comes sauntering around the corner without a care in the world, a whistle hanging out of his mouth. He takes one look at us -- probably seconds from death -- and rolls his eyes before blowing on the whistle. High-pitched noises confuse them, y’know, so we were able to grab some books and bash them over the heads to escape.” 

He shrugs. “He’s been Coach ever since.”

“Hey, that’s only half’a the story!” The guard nearest to Daichi, his hair buzzed as close to his scalp as possible, protests. “He was our volleyball coach back in high school, ya know?” 

Suga just laughs him off. “Just you and Noya, Tanaka. You forget that not everyone went to highschool with you. Or played volleyball.” Suga rinses his hair. “Personally, I was a swimmer.” 

Once they’re dressed in their gross clothes again (Keiji has to force himself to close his eyes so he won’t be too sad that he’s putting grimy clothes against his clean, pink skin), the guards lead them back outside and towards another building, this one a house. Ukai is in the living room, talking with a tall brown-haired man. 

“We’ll continue this later, Oikawa,” he says once he notices them enter. The brown-haired man brushes past them as he exits, not even making eye contact. Keiji shudders at the empty look in his eyes. “Please, come in.” They all file into the living room, though there isn’t any furniture so they stand in a semi-circle in front of Ukai. Keiji is reminded of his high school and university baseball games, and how they would huddle not unlike this. Ukai’s nickname of “Coach” seems more fitting. 

“You’ve been vouched for by Sugawara,” Ukai starts, “so you’ll all be accepted into the community. However, everyone’s gotta pull their weight. I’m sure you understand. If you have any special skills or knowledge that may help us, that would be mighty appreciated. We can settle you somewhere appropriate if you have related skills. Otherwise, we’ll put you where we need more bodies.”

“We’re all skilled in combat,” Kuroo starts, “but Akaashi is probably the most skilled out of all of us, followed by Daichi.” He points them out in the lineup. “I was a chemist before everything happened. I worked in a few labs, but I’m not sure if that will be helpful.”

Ukai looks at him with interest. “We’ve been lookin’ for a way to extend our weapons arsenal. Your skills might be extremely helpful in avoidin’ explosions.” 

Kuroo grins. “I do know how to dodge a good explosion.” He points to Kenma beside him. “Kenma has an eidetic memory. He never forgets anything he’s ever read or heard. He knows a lot of information about various subjects, which is extremely advantageous.”

“I was a botanist,” Daichi pipes up. “I specialized in wild species, so I can identify vegetation that’s ideal for medicines, foods, and poisons.” 

“I was a paramedic!” Bokuto bounces on his toes. “I might not be as good as a doctor, but I have basic field medic knowledge.”

“All of these skills will be incredibly helpful,” Ukai says. He turns his eyes to Keiji, expecting him to say something as well.

“I’m not as useful,” Keiji confesses. “I can fight well enough since I was alone until these past three weeks, but I was a Japanese Literature student before all of this went down.”

“Akaashi’s really smart!” Bokuto pipes up. “Not Kenma smart, but he’s good at analyzing! And he’s the best fighter I’ve ever seen! His baseball bat is terrifying!” 

“Akaashi’s instincts have proved quick and invaluable in the field,” Suga adds. 

Ukai is looking at him with an eyebrow cocked. “But if you allow me into your community, you must know,” Keiji blurts, his mouth running faster than his mind, “I’m going deaf, and will be completely unable to hear within the span of a few years.” The room is silent: this is news to everyone but Bokuto. “I am also susceptible to spells of vertigo that leave me as good as useless for five to twenty minutes.” 

“He’s never been a burden!” Bokuto is quick to say, probably noticing Ukai’s thoughtful expression. 

“While it’s a mighty shame you aren’t in tip-top shape, I don’t mind havin’ you here. Do you take full responsibility if you were to have a vertigo spell and no’un could spare the effort to save you?” 

Keiji wants to cry with relief. “Yes, yes of course. None of my friends would retaliate if I was purposefully left behind.”

“Now wait--” Bokuto starts, but Keiji places a firm hand on his shoulder, still while making eye contact with Ukai. 

“I understand my limitations and I will not let anyone else die because of them. If being left behind is what is required of me, I have no problems complying.” 

Ukai nods, seemingly satisfied. “Well then. It’s late. I’ll have Hinata and Kageyama show you to where you’ll be sleepin’ until we can give you some better accommodations, then we’ll work on gettin’ you placed tomorrow after I talk with some of the people here. Now if you don’t mind, I have some things I need’ta tend to.”

Keiji can feel Bokuto’s hot gaze on him, but he ignores him in favor of Suga’s relieved grin. “Follow us, we’ll take you to the barracks.”

Keiji knows that Bokuto is just waiting for the next moment they’re alone, so he does everything he can to hold off the confrontation. The barracks are just one long building, half of it purposed for what looks like a medical wing and the other half used as an extra space for sleeping. There are about ten futons lining the walls, five on each side, and beside each futon is a small cardboard box, empty. 

“We have more permanent sleeping arrangements for those who stay here in Karasuno,” Suga says lightly. “If you prove that you want to stay after a week, we’ll set you up in a space you can call your own.” 

They all put their things down on a futon, Keiji carefully placing himself between Bokuto and Kenma. On Bokuto’s other side is Daichi, and endcapping on the other side next to Kenma is Kuroo. 

“You’ll have to eat food from your own stashes tonight,” Suga looks at them apologetically. “We have two meals per day here, and calorie intake is determined by whatever job you’re assigned for the day. Those with more physical jobs get more food.” Keiji is impressed by their organization. “I’ll come to get you all in the morning so that you can get assigned and eat.” He grins at them all, a true and uninhibited smile. “I’m glad you’re all here. I think you’ll really like it.” 

He leaves soon after saying goodnight to Daichi, and they’re left alone. Keiji bets that they have at least one person guarding the outside of the barracks so that they can’t cause any mischief. Daichi is pale and sweating, shaking with pain, so Bokuto crawls over to his bedroll and starts massaging the area around his wound, speaking with him in low tones. Keiji uses the opportunity to turn his back on Bokuto and squeeze his eyes shut. His stomach gurgles, but he ignores it, trying to will himself to sleep. 

Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

Keiji is awoken by a rough hand on his bicep. “Get up,” Bokuto hisses, tugging him into a sitting position.

“Bokuto-san?” Keiji rubs at his eyes, head hurting from lack of sleep and food. 

“We need to talk. Get up,” Bokuto has rarely looked so serious, and Keiji quickly stands, checking the other bedrolls. Everyone is accounted for, so at least there isn’t a problem there. Bokuto roughly leads him outside, where the one guard -- Washio, maybe? -- from yesterday is standing. “We’re just having a talk,” Bokuto looks at him, and the guard gets the hint and moves further away to give them a semblance of privacy. Knowing Bokuto’s default volume, Washio will be able to hear every word no matter how far away he stands.

Keiji steadfastly tries to avoid Bokuto’s intense gaze, but it’s hard when he’s still trying to keep an eye on his lips so he won’t miss anything. The last thing he wants is for Bokuto to get even more annoyed because Keiji misheard what he was saying.

“Are you angry with me?” Keiji finally asks, perturbed by the silence. 

“Angry with you? Angry with you!? I’m so mad I can’t even think!” Bokuto throws his hands into the air, his intense yellow eyes boring into Keiji’s own. “I can’t believe you! You’re important, Akaashi!” 

“I never said I wasn’t,” Keiji narrows his eyes at his partner.

“Yes huh! Yes you did! You made it sound like you’re expandable!”

“Expendable,” Keiji mindlessly corrects.

“Whatever!!” Bokuto roughly grabs his arms, and Keiji doesn’t think he’s ever been manhandled like this before. Bokuto’s grip is surely going to leave painful, finger-shaped bruises. “You aren’t a thing that can just be thrown away once it’s used!”

“Bokuto-san, we are in a community now. I am nothing more than a resource for Karasuno and its members. My life is not important in the grand scheme of things.”

“Stop it!” Bokuto’s face is centimeters away from his, twisted in hurt. His expression causes Keiji’s heart to twinge. “Stop talking about yourself like that! They just don’t know,” Bokuto looks away now, muttering to himself. “They just don’t know.” When his eyes meet Keiji’s again, they’re glistening. “Nothing would be okay if you died. Please stop acting like it would be.” 

The world screeches to a stop. Emotions rise in Keiji’s throat and they taste like bile. He wonders when the last time he ate was. 

“What do you want me to say?” Keiji manages past his closing windpipe. 

“I want you to say that your life is valuable. That you won’t throw it away.” Bokuto looks like he’s searching for something -- for what, Keiji doesn’t know. The grip on his arms merely tightens, making him wince. Bokuto loosens it again, but doesn’t let go or falter.

“Bokuto-san, I--”

“Say it!”

“My life is valuable. I’ll hold onto it for as long as I can,” Keiji startles, the words feeling like a binding pledge as they leave his lips. 

Bokuto is staring at him, and he suddenly surges forward and crushes Keiji into a kiss, which Keiji returns with fervor. It’s unlike their usual kisses, this one hungry and angry and frustrated, emotions that Bokuto rarely displays. Keiji feels something wet on his face and he realizes that they’re tears, but he can’t imagine whether they’re coming from him or Bokuto. They break away when they hear Kuroo calling their names from inside the barracks, looking for them.

“I hated you for telling Ukai that you were useless.” 

Keiji quirks a lip up at Bokuto, grabbing his hand and cradling it in both of his. “Now, we both know I’m not useless, don’t we?” He pulls Bokuto with him as they make their way back into the barracks. “I’d rather be underestimated than have someone expect too much of me.”

After checking to make sure that they’re okay, Kuroo sends Keiji a dirty look before slinging his bag over his shoulder and sitting next to Daichi on his bed, changing his bandages. Keiji eyes Kuroo’s back carefully. He doesn’t know what it is, but something about the taller man constantly puts him on edge, even when they’re obviously on the same team. Maybe it’s his conniving grin, or his sharp movements, or his hate-filled eyes. Keiji has no clue where Kuroo is coming from and it makes it impossible to predict his future movements. Keiji doesn’t like it when he can’t get a read on someone. 

“He’s just worried,” Kenma appears at his elbow again, and Keiji tells his heart to calm down. Holy shit, that boy’s footsteps are completely silent. 

“What do you mean?” Keiji asks. His eyes trail the slender build of the man in question, his hair flopping as he gives a genuine grin to Daichi.

Kenma shifts between his two feet. “He thinks that you might be using Bokuto. He is a bit gullible, our Koutarou, so I don’t think his fear is completely unfounded.”

Keijis stomach drops at the thought. What would have happened if it wasn’t him who had found Bokuto? What if it was someone who would use Bokuto’s kindness (Keiji can only see his face when Keiji saved him -- so grateful, willing to do anything for him) for their own gain? Someone who would manipulate Bokuto into doing their bidding and keeping him trapped with mind games and sex? 

“I realize that it’s improbable that...after so little time, Bokuto-san and I could find fondness. But I truly….” Keiji turns to look at Bokuto, who is making excited conversation with Suga, who had just entered the building. His limp hair bounces as he lifts himself up on his toes from excitement, eyes wide and smile wider. Keiji’s heart lurches at the sight. “I truly have his best interests at heart, as he does mine.” 

“Keiji!” Bokuto yells from across the room. “They have a death person here! You could talk to them!” 

“Deaf, Bokuto,” Suga laughs. “Now come on you five. You’ll have to eat your breakfast on the run so we can make it to see Sensei at a reasonable time. You can keep your stuff here, but I understand if you want to take it with you.” They all shoulder their backpacks.

Suga passes out granola bars before leading them from the barracks. Keiji is starting to understand that the compound has an obvious layout, with more buildings and walls towards the front. The deeper they go, the more sparse the buildings are. There are some small wooded areas and areas that have obviously been cleared for farming. Keiji can barely believe that this is still Tokyo. There are numerous people milling about, some still looking half-asleep as they go about their business.

Suga finally slows as they near the large body of water that is -- what Keiji assumes -- Tokyo Bay. There’s a building that’s been stripped of all of its recognizable features, and standing outside of it talking to the tall brown-haired man from the day before is a small, dark-haired man with thick glasses. He’s surprisingly well-dressed for an apocalypse, but his jacket has a few holes near the bottom of it. 

“Thank you, Oikawa,” the small man dismisses the brown-haired man as they approach. The man lets his eyes linger on them all this time before brushing past them, his stance dangerous and on edge. “Welcome!” The small man says enthusiastically. “Keishin told me about you all and Karasuno is lucky that Suga brought you here to us!”

“Group, this is Sensei. Sensei, this is Kuroo, Kenma, Akaashi, Bokuto, and Daichi,” Suga makes the introductions. 

“Please, feel free to call me Takeda.” The man pushes his glasses further up his nose. “I act as an organizer and communicator for Karasuno. I’m the one you talk to if you’re unhappy with your position in our community or if you have any concerns about anything at all!” His wide eyes and pleasant grin say that he’s no threat, but there’s something unsettling about Takeda that Keiji isn’t sure he likes. “Today we’ll start adding you all to the rotations and see how well you work in the areas we assign you. Suga will take you to your assignments, and at the end of the trial period we’ll reassess to make sure you’re in the right place.

“Now, ah, which one of you is the botanist?” 

“Me, sir,” Daichi raises his hand. 

“Oh!” Takeda looks taken aback by Daichi’s arm, but he recovers quickly. “If it’s alright with you, we seem to be having trouble with the kale we’re trying to grow. Would you be able to look at it as well as the other crops to see how we can improve? We’ll probably have you working on that until you’re well enough to join a scavenging group.” The way it’s worded sounds like a question, but Takeda’s tone is not offering. Daichi grins and nods anyways. 

“Wonderful. And the chemist?” Kuroo raises his hand. “We’ll have you in the armory today. The medic?” 

“Present!”

“How do you feel about a trial scavenging run?” 

“What?” Keiji and Kuroo speak up at the same time. They shoot glances at the other, but turn their attention to Takeda. He raises his small hands into the air.

“A trial! It’s an exercise in trust on both sides, I’m sure. And Sugawara-kun has kindly offered to join the group so your medic won’t be without an ally. But I can assure you, no harm will come to him from a member of Karasuno.” 

“I’ll be fine!” Bokuto squeezes Keiji’s shoulder and sends a wink to Kuroo. He doesn’t look nervous at all, but Keiji feels like he might throw up. “This is our best chance at gaining their trust. Let me,” Bokuto whispers into his ear, and Keiji swallows hard and nods. 

“We’re glad to have you. Now, you two will be added to our normal rotation until we can find the best place for you. I have a feeling you’ll be just as helpful to us as Karasuno is to you,” Takeda looks at Keiji and Kenma with interested eyes. It makes Keiji wildly uncomfortable, as if the sensei is reading his thoughts without his permission. 

“Suga will take you all to your posts now. I truly do hope you enjoy it here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter was a little boring, it's a set up for next chapter, when things start to go down.  
> What's this? A...a hint of a plot???? With only 2 chapters to go??????   
> Yeah. I hate myself too.
> 
> Fun Facts!!
> 
> \- Older Ukai has died at this point, so Keishin's runnin' the show! If you've read pretty much any of my other works (or like 75% of them) you will know that I'm weak as hell for Ukai Keishin so here have more of him 
> 
> \- Botanist Daichi gives me life? Like it seems like something Asahi would do but imagining a big muscly gentle dude with three braincells and two younger sisters having an affinity for making things grow?? That's??? So???? Cute to me???? I also read a super fckin cute KuroDai fic months ago where there was magic and Daichi made flowers grow wherever he walked and the imagery was incredible and if I find it again I'll link it because it made me warm and happy to read (Daisuga forever but like...Kurodai be cute asf too)
> 
> \- Bokuto's asthma isn't made a huge deal of because he has medication that can help him out! (obvi it's still a bit of a detriment but Akaashi's condition is a bit more debilitating and dangerous in the field)
> 
> \- Also I started working on the Daisuga companion piece to this fic! I'm hoping to have it done soon, but it's not really a priority, I'm just havin' some fun!


	9. everybody wants to rule the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which is worse...Oikawa or Shiratorizawa?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally almost forgot to post this oops HAPPY WEDNESDAY
> 
> This chapter and next (last!! ahhh!!) are freaking marathons so please excuse any slightly late and/or error-filled updates! I’ve never been gifted at running ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Chapter song: [Everybody wants to rule the world](https://youtu.be/l9T-2Fb_ZlY) \-- Lorde version
> 
> Also I am apologizing profusely in advance because to be honest I haven't even started writing the last chapter and while I am hopeful that it can be out by next Wednesday, I wouldn't bet on myself. All I can say is sorry if it's late, but I hope it will be worth the wait! 
> 
> Un-beta'd!

Keiji’s first assigned job as part of the community is helping to build a greenhouse, one of the first of many. The setup is by Tokyo Bay, in a small field that was probably a park at some point, but has now grown long grasses. A short man who introduces himself as Yaku points him towards the tall blonde from yesterday, Tsu-something, and Keiji ambles on over. The tall man peers at him from behind his glasses before returning to the piping he was separating. The grass around him and Yaku’s team is trampled flat. 

“You’re from yesterday’s group,” is all he says. 

“Akaashi Keiji.”

The blonde looks up again, regarding him with cautious but dimmed eyes. “Nice to meet you. Tsukishima.” They don’t bother shaking hands. “You’ve been put with me because you don’t know to request not to. I would apologize, but I’d appreciate the assistance.”

“Then I’m glad to give it,” Keiji shrugs. “What is it that we’re doing?”

Tsukishima gestures towards his piles of piping. “We’ve been tasked with making the frames for the greenhouses. We’ll use the PVC pipes. These,” he points to a pile of thick piping, “will be used as stakes to reinforce the greenhouses. Those,” he nods his head to another pile, these ones thinner and smaller in diameter, “are for the actual frame. They’ve already been cut, so we just need to assemble.” 

“Seems easy enough.” He looks around to see what else they’re working with. “What’s the fire for?” 

The place they’re assembling the greenhouses is near the farmlands of the compound. They have a lot of space to work with, with Yaku and his crew quite a few yards away cutting plywood and tarping, and Keiji and Tsukishima in their own part of the clearing. Only a few yards from his and Tsukishima’s location is a burning fire, one that's not very big but is pretty strong. Tsukishima feeds it more wood, then holds up something from his pocket.

“Our scavengers found this and some sticks for it,” he says. It’s a hot glue gun, Keiji recognizes it from his mother’s old craft bag. The only difference is that this one has no electrical cord or plug. “Obviously, we have no electricity. But if you heat the tip, it works just as well. We need it to secure the piping and tarps.”

"Sounds good."

It's simple once they get into the routine of it. Stake large pipe, insert smaller pipe, secure smaller but longer pipe, stake other large pipe, gently heat and bend small pipe across to create the frame. 

They're getting into the groove when Tsukishima blurts out a surprising, "I'm sorry." Keiji doesn't answer him, merely waits for more. "For yesterday." He waits a little longer, but apparently that was all the blonde wanted to say. It’s more than he was expecting, if he’s being honest.

"You seemed justified in your excitement." Keiji's parents long ago taught him the etiquette necessary for conversations as delicate as these, and he's never been more grateful. Who knew that boring rich-person politeness would be a great way to navigate difficult conversations in the apocalypse? 

Tsukishima shakes his head a bit. "Not justified. Just worried." 

"I would be too," Keiji says carefully, "if it was someone I cared deeply for." They're silent for a few beats. "What's their name?"

"Yamaguchi Tadashi," he says the name like a prayer. "He's my best friend." 

That can mean a lot of things. Based on his frenetic energy before compared to his careful calmness now, Keiji thinks Yamaguchi might be a lover. He notes that Tsukishima still refers to his friend in the present tense. "How long have you known each other?" 

"Ten years." A minute or two passes. "We've known each other for ten years, and more time has passed in the fifteen days he's been gone." Keiji hates being able to feel a stranger's pain so acutely. It's almost as if Bokuto is the one that's been missing, even though Keiji last saw him not even two hours ago. He aches to hold him in his arms again.

"Tell me about him?" In one of his psychology classes, back when he thought for sure he'd be a therapist instead of a novelist, Keiji thinks he remembers learning about how talking about loss can heal. But while it might seem like he’s being a nice person, in all honesty, Keiji’s tinnitus is particularly bad today and he just wants something else to focus on other than the high pitched ringing in his ears. Tsukishima sends him a side-eyed glare, wondering what he's playing at. Keiji merely gives him a small smile. "Introduce me to Yamaguchi Tadashi. I'd be honored to know your best friend." 

So Tsukishima does, reluctantly at first but gaining confidence as he goes on. He weaves a story about the first day they met, when Yamaguchi gave Tsukishima the strength to stand up for a stranger. He talks about all the ways his brother let him down, and all the ways Yamaguchi refused to give up on him. He explains his trouble connecting, and how Yamaguchi served as the bridge between himself and others. How Yamaguchi's own determination gave Tsukishima the push he needed to be better, in everything he did. The way Tsukishima talks about him, as if Yamaguchi is a part of his own soul, makes Keiji want to weep for his loss. 

Eventually Tsukishima tapers off, his words hanging in the air between them. "Yamaguchi, it's very nice to meet you," Keiji manages to get out, pausing in his work. A broken laugh rips its way out of Tsukishima's throat, pain and hopelessness and a little bit of gratefulness in his tone. They work in silence again, a charged sort of understanding between them, until Yaku and a few of his crew come over with the plywood front and back of the frame. 

Yaku obviously knows what he's doing and his instructions are forward and concise. They're connecting the wood to the piping when a strange hush falls over the worksite, the content chattering of the workers an immediate and unwelcome loss. Keiji looks up to see what the cause is and recognizes the brown-haired figure walking around near them, his head high and steps deliberate. 

"Asshole," one of the workers mutters under their breath, barely loud enough to be heard. 

Keiji waits until he's out of earshot before turning to Tsukishima. "I've seen him talking with Ukai and Sensei. Who is he?"

Tsukishima’s lip curls. "Oikawa."

"Not a fan?"

"Scheming bastard," Tsukishima grumbles, shoving a piece of piping into the ground with more force than necessary. 

"He hasn't been the same since Iwaizumi died," Yaku murmurs, briefly joining in their conversation.

"Who's Iwaizumi?" Keiji's eyes follow the tall man as he enters an unfamiliar building, disappearing from sight.

"His handler," Tsukishima spits. "Now that he's not on his leash anymore, he thinks he can get away with whatever he wants."

Keiji notices the way Yaku stops maintaining eye contact. "Can he?" Keiji asks him. 

"Pretty much," the shorter man shrugs. 

"He's conniving enough that he can." Keiji hasn't seen Tsukishima this riled up about anything, except when he thought that they might have information about Yamaguchi. He wonders what Oikawa's done to garner this kind of despise. 

"Shouldn't someone stop him?" Keiji wants to know.

"Don't cross him," Yaku warns before turning to get back to his crew. "He can make your life even more hellish than the apocalypse can." Keiji seriously doubts that, but he doesn't want to press his luck. So far, the apocalypse has been relatively fair, if not a bit unforgiving.

"How did this Iwaizumi guy die?" Keiji asks Tsukishima.

The blonde man purses his lips but doesn't stop in his construction. "We went out scavenging. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Shimizu, Hinata, and I. It was a normal hunt, but we left a few days after Suga did so everyone was on edge. We weren't supposed to go far, just to one of our usual places, but it had been weeks since we'd been there. It had been overtaken by a group of bandits or something, and they weren't kind. We got separated. Hinata and I managed to escape not long after Shimizu did, and when we finally met up with Oikawa at the rendezvous, he was covered in blood. Said that they killed Iwaizumi." Tsukishima shook his head. 

"He's been vying to get those bandits ever since. He wants us to use resources that we don't have to get rid of them. And he might be starting to convince people that we should."

Keiji watches the blonde man carefully. "You think otherwise." It's not a question.

"It's a waste of time. Winter's coming, and realistically we can't spend any more effort on those bandits. We already might have lost the scavenging group that left to find ours when we didn't turn up in time." He shakes his head, eyes trained on the ground. "Insects, particularly ants and bees, live on one main instinct: the good of the hive. They can't afford to mourn the loss of one when so many others are at stake." He grits his teeth, jaw working soundlessly, and Keiji knows that they aren't just talking about Oikawa and Iwaizumi anymore. "Oikawa has to let him go. For the good of the hive." 

"Hope can be a wonderful thing," Keiji murmurs. 

Tsukishima laughs bitterly. "Or a terrible one."

"Support!" 

Koutarou skips up behind Shirofuku and bashes the zombie in the head with his hammer, Suga on his right and that funny little red-haired guy from the day before (Hinata!!) on his left. Once the zombie is down, the kid starts checking its pockets, delighted when he pulls out a pack of gum. Spearmint (Koutarou wonders what Akaashi's favorite flavor of gum is. He himself is partial to the hard gumballs that they keep in the swirly machines at the malls. His sister always thought he was weird for liking the probably-expired treats, but nothing beat watching the ball of gum roll down the slide, his mouth stained purple and red and green. He wonders if he can convince one of the scouting troops to stop by the mall).

Suga finishes off the zombie with his boot as Koutarou rips his hammer into another one that approaches. Shirofuku is grinning and rifling through a purse as Hinata finishes off another one. If anyone had told Koutarou that being a part of a community would be so fun, he would've joined one ages ago!

“We almost never get to go on silly little scouting trips like this one,” Suga is saying, “so we’re all trying to have a little fun.” Koutarou watches as Kinoshita and Narita move forward to scout ahead, pushing each other and laughing. They’re making funny signals at each other and whooping as they pick their way over fallen debris.

“Are they together?” Koutarou asks, looking after the pair as they disappear into a building. 

Suga laughs. “No, they’ve just been best friends for their entire lives. Plus, Narita relies on Kinoshita to talk to the rest of us.” The way Koutarou tilts his head must make his question manifest, because Suga just laughs lightly again. “Narita’s the deaf community member I was telling you about. Apparently he’s been deaf all his life, so he only uses sign language to communicate. Kinoshita acts as his translator.”

Koutarou immediately turns back to the pair, and now that he’s paying attention he can see that their hand movements are deliberate yet carefree. They’ve been signing for a while, that much is easy to see. Koutarou makes a mental note to ask them for tips, since he’ll have to try and learn for Akaashi. 

“Suga! Neighbor incoming!” Kinoshita yells from the second floor of the building that he and Narita had disappeared into. His hands move as he talks.

Suga straightens up, whistling loudly and sharply. Attention. Hinata and Shirofuku immediately turn their heads to him, waiting for instruction. “Get into the building. Wait for my signal to do anything. Kinoshita, how many?” He calls up, and Kinoshita squints to the south. 

“Four!”

Suga’s lips press together into a straight line. “Go, now.” Koutarou wants to argue, but Shirofuku grabs his wrist and pulls him along with her and Hinata. They’re joined by Narita and Kinoshita, both of whom look worried as they all gather around a window on the first floor. Suga is gripping his tailpipe so tightly his knuckles are chalk-white. Koutarou finally sees them, a group of four making their way towards Suga. They look like a scavenging group too, but they don’t look like they’re having near as much fun as their group was. 

“Who are they?” Koutarou asks as they greet Suga as if they know him. 

“They’re from Shiratorizawa,” Hinata hisses, his eyes oddly intense as he stares at the strangers. 

“They’re another community not too far from here,’ Shirofuku explains further. “Recently they’ve been coming closer and closer to our walls.”

“I heard they’ve been running out of supplies,” Kinoshita says softly. Narita moves his hands quickly, and Kinoshita nods in agreement. “Kazuhito thinks that they're lacking when it comes to seeds. If they don’t grow crops soon, they might be righteously screwed when winter comes around.”

“Does this happen a lot?” Koutarou asks. The four Shiratorizawa members move a little closer to Suga and everyone tenses. Suga says something amicably and they step back again. No one relaxes. “What do they want?” 

“They want our supplies. We’ve been worried about an impending attack,” Shirofuku says.

“An attack?” Koutarou seriously does not like the sound of that. 

“They’re strong,” Hinata says, eyes not straying from the group.

“If they attacked, we might not be able to defend ourselves,” Kinoshita murmurs regretfully. 

“Don’t say that!” Hinata glares at Kinoshita, even though he must be at least five years younger and 100 centimeters shorter than the blonde man. “We could stop them.” His eyes are trained back on Suga and the group, and Koutarou bites back the urge to shiver. As much as he likes Hinata, the kid is a little scary. 

He wonders if Akaashi will let Koutarou adopt him.

Narita gasps and Koutarou’s head snaps back up to Suga. One of the Shiratorizawa members has stepped extremely close (too close) to him, and Koutarou immediately moves to help him.

“No!” Shirofuku grabs his arm before he can vault through the open window, effectively holding him back. “Suga hasn’t told us to go yet.” She points to the silver-haired man. Sure enough, his left hand is wide open and parallel to the ground, the sign for stay. 

It feels like hours have passed when the Shiratorizawa group finally leaves, and Suga turns to them once the other group has gone, pointing a finger to the sky to let them know it’s all clear. They come crawling cautiously from the building, weapons drawn. 

“Are you okay?” Kinoshita translates for Narita. 

“I’m fine. We should think about heading back, though,” Suga’s smile is strained and tight.

“What did they say?” Shirofuku asks.

“Nothing we need to worry ourselves about right now,” Suga says. His hands are clenched at his sides, and Koutarou is a bit afraid of the fire in Suga’s eyes. “Come now,” he says, turning away. Koutarou is oddly relieved. “We have enough to satisfy Coach.”

Keiji is relieved when he sees Bokuto, Suga, and the rest of their group come back inside the compound. Their return is signalled with a bell -- not incredibly loud, but just enough so that you know something exciting is happening. Keiji doesn't miss the way Tsukishima whips his head up at the sound. They’ve finished for the day, and Tsukishima had offered to walk him to the gate to greet the scavenging group. Keiji knows that he was hoping for a different outcome. 

Suga is in the lead, a grim look on his face that makes Keiji immediately count and recount the heads. Still six. He breathes out a sigh of relief. Suga nods politely at him as he passes but he all but runs to the main house where Ukai is, leaving everyone at the gates to watch with concerned puzzlement. The rest of the group looks wary, and Keiji is immediately worried. 

“Akaaaaashiiii!!!” Bokuto flings himself into Keiji’s arms, almost barreling them both over. 

“Bokuto-san, what’s going on?” The joyous man immediately sobers up, his eyes wide and face earnest.

“Akaashi, there’s something bad happening. While we were out--”

“There you two are.” Kuroo appears behind them, a hard set to his jaw and a dark look in his eyes. “We need to talk.” Kuroo has a hand on each of their shoulders as he ushers them towards their temporary housing. 

“Kuroo, what’s happening?” Keiji repeats his question from before. As much as he still mistrusts the other man, he knows that Kuroo only has Bokuto’s best interests at heart. If he’s worried, Keiji will be, too. 

Inside their bunkings, Daichi and Kenma are already waiting. Kuroo checks the doorways and the rest of the building before settling down next to them. “There’s some real shit going down here,” he says seriously, running a hand anxiously through his hair. “They had me making honest-to-god bombs in the armory today.”

“The guards were worried about something, but they wouldn’t disclose much,” Kenma mutters. 

“Bombs? What kind of bombs?” Daichi asks. 

Kuroo’s eyes are dark, almost black in color. A shiver runs down Keiji’s spine. “Pipe bombs. Nail bombs. Ones that cause massive tissue damage,” he says grimly. “These aren’t for the dead. They’re planning on using them against living people.”

“Today!” Bokuto shouts, and everyone shushes him. He continues in a slightly lower tone. “We were out scavenging and a group of people from another community came up to us!”

“You what?” Keiji is sure that there’s murder in his eyes. 

Bokuto nods earnestly. “Yeah! They were from Shiro….kawa?” 

“Shiratorizawa,” Daichi supplies. “Suzumeda mentioned them.” 

“What did she say?” Kuroo asks. 

Daichi shrugs. “Just that they tried to steal seeds the other week. Apparently they’re not doing so hot in the food department.”

“Shirofuku said that too!! She told me that they might attack.”

“Attack?” 

They all share looks. Keiji is absolutely fuming. “Why would they send Bokuto out when they knew that there were hostile groups out there!? He’s a medic! Weren’t they supposed to be earning our trust? I say we leave,” Keiji slaps his palm down on the ground in the middle of their circle, livid. 

“They’re most likely playing the long game,” Kenma says softly and quickly. Keiji doesn’t know how he can be so calm. “If we think about it logistically, if there’s a group of outsiders trying to attack, it’s likely that if Karasuno suffers enough damage they’ll have to go on longer scavenging trips, or even move entirely if they’re completely overwhelmed. Having medics in those scavenging groups increases the chances of long-term success, since medical care can be supplied immediately. Imagine what would have happened to Daichi if Bokuto hadn’t been there.”

They all turn to Daichi, solemn and serious. Kenma has a point, even if they don’t want to hear it. 

“Why wouldn’t they tell us about Shiratorizawa?” Kuroo asks. 

“They probably didn’t want to show weakness,” Keiji realizes. “If we saw their weaknesses, we might be more inclined to exploit them.” 

“Well I’m not opposed to leaving,” Kuroo starts, “but if we do, what then? Do we go back to Minato?” 

“I don’t wanna leave,” Bokuto says quietly. “I like it here.” 

“I’ll follow you all, but I don’t want to leave either,” Daichi admits. 

“Kenma?” Kuroo turns to his partner, who looks tired. 

“I don’t want to run anymore,” is all he says. Keiji feels like there’s more to that story, but he doesn’t feel comfortable trying to pry. They have bigger things on their plates. 

Kuroo starts saying something else, but suddenly Keiji’s world starts tilting. He quickly reaches to his right to grab Bokuto’s bicep, gripping it as tightly as he can to try and ground himself. 

“Akaashi?” He can barely hear Bokuto ask over the roaring in his ears. There’s more muffled talking and Keiji thinks that he’s sitting up straight but he’s not sure, because nothing is staying still. Fuck. He can’t remember which way is up, and there’s nothing around to orient him. He opens his eyes to try and blink the sensation away but nothing’s working. He squeezes them shut, immediately regretting it when the spinning increases by tenfold. 

Bokuto is shouting something, but focusing is hard. Keiji swallows the accumulating spit in his mouth desperately, hoping he won’t make an embarrassing mess all over himself. He feels something being shoved in his hands and when he blinks blindly at it he realizes that it’s one of the cardboard boxes. He heaves unceremoniously into it, losing whatever calories he had for lunch. He only has a quick respite before he’s throwing up again. He vaguely feels someone holding onto him, maybe from behind, maye from in front, and he can still hear the faint sounds of overlapping voices. 

Keiji isn’t sure how long he throws up before he’s holding his head again, curled up in someone’s -- Bokuto’s -- arms. Safe. Safe. The world is still tilting, but it’s slowing down the longer Bokuto holds him. It’ll be over soon it’ll be over soon it’ll be over soon. Gods, he hopes it will be over soon. He whimpers and moves closer to the solid build of Bokuto’s chest. 

When his eyes can finally focus again he’s tired but can thankfully see straight. He sees their group -- Kuroo, Kenma, and Daichi -- all staring at him with wild concern. Keiji tries to apologize but his jaw won’t work. He feels unsteady and his head aches something awful.

“That was…” Kuroo starts, apparently unable to find the words.

“...terrifying,” Daichi finishes for him. Kuroo nods in agreement, eyes wide and worried.

“You okay?” Bokuto, who is holding Keiji tightly against his chest, asks him. Keiji hums unsteadily, trying to extract himself from Bokuto’s arms. He’s sure that he stinks of puke and sweat, and he’s damp with his own perspiration. Bokuto refuses to let go. 

Kenma hands him a bottle of water and Keiji drinks it gratefully until it’s completely drained. “How long?” He asks shakily. 

“Ten minutes,” Kenma replies. Keiji breathes a little sigh of relief. Could have been worse. 

“Sorry.” 

“What the fuck was that?” Kuroo asks. 

“Vertigo,” Bokuto answers solemnly, and Keiji has to try not to laugh when he remembers Bokuto referring to it as “a vertigo” almost a month ago. His lips manage a small twitch of amusement. 

“It’s what I was telling Coach about,” Keiji says. He realizes that the cardboard box has been taken away, probably outside to be launched as far away from the wall as possible. Or maybe to be put in one of those pipe bombs. “Happens sometimes.” He notices that everyone still looks worried. He doesn’t want to ask, but he knows he needs to. “What is it?” 

“That guy,” Bokuto starts. “The one with the floppy hair? He came in here when you were...like that.”

“What guy?” Keiji asks, his heart involuntarily beating a little faster. Looking weak and pathetic in front of Bokuto is a lot different than looking weak and pathetic in front of members of the community. 

“The one that was with Coach and Sensei,” Kuroo says. 

Oikawa. Keiji remembers Tsukishima’s reaction to the other man and feels a pit of dread form in his stomach. “What did he want?” 

“He came to tell us about dinner. And then he saw you…” Daichi trails off, wincing. “He left pretty quickly afterwards, so we couldn’t really get his reaction.”

“It didn’t seem bad!” Bokuto says. “And we told him how great of a fighter you are!” 

Keiji groans, thumping his head onto Bokuto’s chest. They can’t worry about Oikawa now, there are other more pressing matters. “We were talking about staying when the spell hit. Is that still our decision?” Keiji turns to Kuroo, who had taken charge of that conversation before their interruption.

Kuroo looks even more shaken that Keiji is continuing on with business as usual, but he doesn’t comment. “I think we all want to stay, if possible.” He turns seriously to the rest of the group. “But we agree that we look out for each other first, right? If any of us are in danger, we are out of here. This isn’t our fight.” 

“Guys, dinner!” Suga’s voice rings out from the other end of the building, and Kuroo stands, conversation apparently over.

Bokuto and Keiji stand together, Bokuto still gripping onto Keiji for dear life. 

“It feels wrong to run, don’t you think so Akaashi?” Bokuto asks softly. 

“We aren’t running. Not yet,” Keiji answers, not quite sure what else to say. It does seem cowardly. But who’s to say what constitutes as chickenshit when the entire world is out to get you? It doesn’t seem fair that after all they’ve been through to survive, they get overtaken by someone else’s fight.

Suddenly the cowbell rings, signaling the return of a supply group and the need for help unloading the supplies. Keiji and Bokuto unwrap themselves from their hug and make their way outside to see what the ruckus is about before going to dinner. 

Usually a return is signalled by fist bumps and side hugs, but this time there’s sobbing and joyful exclamations and wide grins. Keiji and Bokuto share a confused look. Yachi, a small but mighty healer who they met briefly, comes up beside them, her own eyes filled with tears as she grins. 

“Yachi? What’s happening?” Bokuto asks.

She turns to them, eyes shining. “They found the group that didn’t come back. We thought they were all dead, but they found them!” 

Keiji quickly turns his eyes back to the scene of relief before him. Suddenly, the tears make a lot more sense. A miracle has just occurred. 

“Tadashi!” A broken voice wails slightly above the general fanfare of celebration, and Keiji looks over to see Tsukishima crumple to the ground, sobbing into his hands. Oh. Oh god. Not everyone is celebrating. Yamaguchi didn’t make it. 

Keiji looks away to give the grieving man his privacy, biting his lip to stop the wave of emotions that overcomes him. He breathes heavily through his nose and grips Bokuto’s hand tighter, grateful, forever grateful, that he still has this beautiful man beside him. He wonders what Yamaguchi was like outside of Tsukishima's stories. If he and Keiji would have gotten along. If Bokuto would have added him to their group of friends. He wonders if Tsukishima will ever heal. 

Judging by the sounds of his unhinged sobs, Keiji doubts it.

“That’s sweet,” Bokuto murmurs, and Keiji turns to look at his lover. How can he look upon someone mourning the loss of their love and still say that sweetness existed in the world? Sure, some people came back, but not everyone. 

At the reminder of Tsukishima, Keiji reluctantly turns his eyes back to the man. Only this time he’s not alone. Kneeling beside him is a tall man (his height must be enough to rival both Kuroo and Tsukishima) with wild hair and freckles. He has one hand on Tsukishima’s shoulder as he grins, his own shoulders bouncing in a badly-hidden laugh. Tsukishima raises his tear-streaked face from his hands and moves them to cradle the freckled man’s head gently. Then he pulls his lips towards the other’s, and Keiji is suddenly watching the reunion of Yamaguchi and Tsukishima. 

“Oh,” he breathes out. 

Not far from Keiji and Bokuto, Tanaka -- one of the main guards -- is whooping like crazy, holding a dark-haired man in his arms as he yells in his ear.

“Ryuu, I swear to god. I told you I was coming back, didn’t I? When have I ever lied to you?” 

“You ain’t allowed to scare me like that ever again! From now on, every time you leave these walls I’m joinin’ ya!” Tanaka alternates between pressing his face in the man’s neck and lifting the man up, as if he’s weighing him. 

“I guess I can’t say no to that,” the man sounds annoyed, but his eyes are shining with adoration and the smile on his face voids the tone of his voice. 

There are a few more tearful reunions taking place at the gate, but Keiji is pulled away from the swirl of emotions by a hand grasping his shoulder firmly. He turns to see Oikawa, the man taller than he had expected. 

“Akaashi, right?” Oikawa asks. His voice and face reveal nothing. 

“Yes,” Keiji meets his gaze unflinchingly. It’s a cold and haunted place in Oikawa’s eyes. Beside him, Bokuto is talking excitedly with Hinata, his fingers slipping from Keiji’s. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the unrest around here,” Oikawa starts, sounding displeased if unsurprised, “and I have a proposition for you. If you’ll come with me.” Oikawa steps out, tilting his head towards a part of the compound Keiji hasn’t been to before. He’s hesitant to follow this stranger anywhere, if what Tsukishima told him has any merit. 

“If you come with me, I can guarantee the safety of those in your group.” Oikawa’s eyes flicker to Bokuto, who is now getting caught deeper in the celebration. His golden eyes shine as Hinata drags him from person to person, introducing Bokuto to their missing members. Keiji’s breath still smells like puke and he hasn’t eaten the entire day. He’s bone tired and wants nothing more than to collapse on his futon in the barracks.

But he has to keep Bokuto safe.

Keiji turns back to Oikawa, whose calculating eyes are waiting for him. “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts:
> 
> \-- I have spent a long time thinking about this, and I have come to the conclusion that if Bokuto and Akaashi got stuck in an apocalypse in the canon-verse, they would traverse through Japan together trying to find their friends. Bokuto would turn wild, almost feral, and be so deadly and unlike himself that once they actually stumble upon Kuroo he would be afraid of his friend. Anyways just something fun to think about. 
> 
> \-- We got more characters this chapter!!! I actually have a super long list of Karasuno’s occupants, including their main descriptive (schemers, defenders, runners, growers, builders, healers) but there are too many for y'all to meet them in these few Karasuno chapters. So far you’ve met (or the other characters have mentioned) exactly half of them! 
> 
> \-- If you’ve noticed, the Karasuno compound is composed of Karasuno, Nekoma, some Fukurodani, and 2 Seijo players (if you count poor Iwa-chan)...this is very purposeful! :)


	10. battle cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is propositioned, and Bokuto wakes up to a new world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a day late, I might still come back and fix some things with this...we'll see haha! 
> 
> Chapter song is [Battle Cry](https://youtu.be/ZgB2qItM76g/) by Imagine Dragons
> 
> Long end note.

Keiji is in a building he’s never seen before, somewhere near Sensei’s place. Their only light is the sinking sun filtering through the west-facing windows. Behind him and Oikawa a handful of others filter in. Keiji recognizes the man who was being accosted by Tanaka, Yaku, a blonde-haired woman he’s never met, and two brown-haired guys he’s seen around but hasn’t talked to. 

“Ennoshita, report,” Oikawa wastes no time. They all stand in a circle, faces darkened by the growing shadows. 

The man who was with Tanaka speaks up. “Shiratorizawa is getting bolder. While we were out I noticed that their movements have been closer to our walls than ever before. They’ve gotten better at hiding themselves, but I believe that we only have a few weeks at most before they get too antsy to keep waiting to assault us.” 

Oikawa turns to him sharply. “Why did you take so long to get back to me?” 

The dark-haired man, Ennoshita, grins wryly. “Got caught up by some bandits. At first we thought that they might have been Shiratorizawa spies, but they were just a distraction.”

Oikawa frowns. “Allies of Shiratorizawa?”

Ennoshita shakes his head. “We don’t think so. Maybe they were trying to weaken Karasuno?” 

Oikawa shakes his head sharply, dismissing the bandits. “We can’t worry about that now. Saeko--”

“Wait. I wasn’t done.” They all turn back to Ennoshita, who has a spooky smile pasted on his face. “Shiratorizawa is working on a vaccine for the virus.” The air is thick at that statement. Despite not knowing in the slightest what’s going on, Keiji understands that this is incredibly significant. “They have test subjects,” Ennoshita continues, “but need more scientists.”

Oikawa’s eyes are shining and Keiji can see the gears in his head turning. “Good work, Ennoshita.” He turns to the woman. “Saeko,” he begins again, “how much longer do you need on those weapons?” 

She stands with her arms crossed and legs shoulder width apart. A power stance. “Two weeks. With that new chemist, we can get everything we need built as soon as possible.” 

Oikawa purses his lips, seemingly displeased with this timeline. He looks at the two brown-haired men carefully, still obviously deep in thought. “How do you two feel about a recon mission?” The two look at each other briefly before nodding their heads. Oikawa swivels to look at Keiji. “How do you feel about joining them?” 

“Recon for what?” Keiji crosses his arms defensively, refusing to back down. He’s met men like Oikawa before. He knows looking weak in front of them can be a fatal mistake. 

“We need to know what Shiratorizawa is going to attack us with and an updated count on their numbers. I need a group that can get in and out no problem.”

“Why me?” Keiji won’t give in easily. 

Oikawa quirks a single eyebrow at him in interest. “I need to make sure that your little group has a stake in what’s going on,” he says. “If you’re spies for Shiratorizawa, we won’t hesitate to get rid of you. Think of this mission as a test.”

A test. Keiji’s getting really fucking sick of being tested. First Kuroo, then Suga, then Ukai, and now Oikawa. He wonders if he’ll ever be done being the bitchboy. 

Oikawa must see some kind of compliance in his gaze, because he steps away and nods with an air of finality. “Kinoshita and Konoha know what they’re doing. I need a few hours, but then you three should be ready to head out.” He meets all of their eyes. “Karasuno is counting on you.” They all stare solemnly back. “Konoha, come with me. The rest of you, I’ll see you later.” Oikawa turns away abruptly, apparently finished with them. Konoha rushes to follow him while the rest break up the meeting. 

Keiji doesn’t trust anyone here, mostly because he doesn’t know them. Kinoshita approaches him, a humorless smile on his face. “Welcome to the crew, I guess,” he says. 

“What is this?” Keiji wastes no time trying to understand. He doesn’t like anything about this: the secretiveness of the meetings, the spying, the risks. 

“You’re not the only one with someone to protect,” is all Kinoshita says. His eyes are as black as coal. He blinks and they lighten again. “I’ll get you from the barracks when it’s time to head out. Be ready.” 

“What do I tell my group?” Keiji asks. 

Kinoshita shrugs. “Whatever you want. But I’d advise against the truth.” His eyes flicker to Oikawa and Konoha before walking out of the building. 

Keiji watches him go, even more concerned than before. He wonders if he’s just being paranoid, but it seems like Oikawa might be holding --

“Good luck tonight,” Saeko slaps him hard on the back. Keiji turns to her, nodding his head a little in thanks, and sees Ennoshita behind her. 

“Wish I was going with you, but Ryuu wouldn’t allow it,” Ennoshita shrugs. “After that last trip I don’t think he’ll be leaving my side anytime soon.” 

“You’re lucky you made it back at all,” Saeko says angrily. “I don’t know what Oikawa was thinking when he sent you to scout out Shiratorizawa.” 

Keiji looks between them confusedly. “Scout? I thought you went out looking for the other group?”

Ennoshita and Sakeo share a slightly panicked look.

Ennoshita sighs. “Well, you’re part of this now, so I suppose it doesn’t hurt. My group’s trip was planned by Oikawa before his group even went out. Of course, they were supposed to be back earlier, but when a limb gets cut off the animal continues to survive, so we went ahead with the scouting plan. Konoha and I framed it so that it seemed like we were looking for Oikawa’s group, but really we were trying to get some information on Shiratorizawa’s movements.”

Keiji feels hot anger in the back of his throat. “You took innocent people with you. People who trusted you. What if someone had gotten killed on your trip? Did Yamaguchi and the others know about it?” 

Ennoshita’s expression hardens. “Look here,” he says dangerously, stepping into Keiji’s personal space. If Keiji had been attacking with fire, Ennoshita is nothing but ice. “We’re doing what we have to to survive. Not everyone can know about what’s going on because Coach and Sensei would undoubtedly put a stop to it. But we all have people that we love. People we have to protect. Do you understand me?” His eyes hold a cool intensity that Keiji understands all too well and he turns away, still upset but not sure who at. 

“I understand,” he grits out. 

“Good,” Ennoshita says. “Good luck tonight.”

A gentle hand makes its way to Keiji’s shoulder and he looks up to meet Saeko’s eyes. They’re soft, full of an emotion Keiji isn’t sure he understands. “We’re counting on you,” she says. “Please help me keep my brother safe.” 

Keiji swallows at the sheer emotion in her face and nods, looking away. He doesn't know her brother, but he knows what it means to lose one. “I’ll try.” He watches Ennoshita and Saeko leave before shooting one last glance at Oikawa. He’s still talking with Konoha, looking imposing and brilliant and truly terrifying. 

Keiji turns away. He wonders how far Oikawa is willing to go to get what he wants. Keiji imagines that the limit doesn’t exist. 

Keiji sits in the mess hall, playing a role he never wanted to have to play. Bokuto is beside him, so bright and full of life, eating his small portion with a huge smile on his face.

"Where did you go Akaashi?" He asks when Keiji sits down in the empty seat to Bokuto's left. 

"Bathroom," he supplies, leaning into Bokuto's side for comfort.

"Akaashi, what's wrong?" Bokuto frowns, pausing in his eating. 

"Nothing, Bokuto-san. Just tired." 

"That's okay Akaashi! We can go to bed soon." Bokuto wraps one arm around Keiji's shoulders, still eating with his other hand. Keiji rests his head on Bokuto, savoring this moment between them. Bokuto's shoulders bounce as he laughs at Kuroo's joke. Keiji wishes that he could die right here, with Bokuto's laugh filling his ears and Bokuto's warmth pressed against his. 

He shovels food into his mouth on autopilot, the dread in his stomach growing as time passes. Something doesn't sit right, and Keiji spends the whole walk back to their accommodations wondering why. It hits him when Bokuto pulls him to his cot for sleeping. 

Iwaizumi is dead. Oikawa made the plans to attack Shiratorizawa before Iwaizumi was killed by the bandits, so him being dead isn’t something that Ennoshita or Konoha knows. Would this change their stance at all? Keiji tries to think of Oikawa’s motive. Whatever it was before, it has now turned into avenging Iwaizumi. Therefore, he would want to prevent a war between Shiratorizawa and Karasuno, so resources could be used towards finding and punishing the bandits, right? Keiji takes a deep, hitching breath, and Bokuto notices. 

“I’m glad the missing group came back,” Bokuto says quietly, rubbing Keiji’s back in comforting circles. 

“Me too,” Keiji whispers back. “I can’t imagine what it would feel like to have them missing for that long.” 

Bokuto is silent for a moment, and Keiji shifts backwards so that he can look up at his partner’s face. “What is it?” 

Bokuto swallows. “I would be so sad if you were missing.” Keiji’s heart sinks. He hopes that they make it back before Bokuto wakes up. “What would I do?”

“I promise I’ll always find my way back,” Keiji presses his face back into Bokuto’s chest, taking comfort in the steady thrum of his heartbeat. One of Bokuto’s hands finds his and they clasp them together tightly, anchoring and strengthening each other. How Bokuto became such a source of comfort and encouragement to keep going, Keiji will never fully understand. Maybe it was his smile, or his endearing naivety, or the way he loves fully and deeply. Keiji may never know what bonded them so quickly and strongly, but he’s glad for it. Without Bokuto, he’s not positive that he’d still even be alive. Keiji knows that he’s lucky beyond belief, to have something worth fighting for in this wasteland. 

In Bokuto’s arms, the world is still. If only it would stay that way.

Keiji stumbles after Kinoshita in the dark of the night, gripping tightly to his forearm as he’s led to the side gates. When the other man had come to get him, Keiji had had time to gaze at Bokuto’s sleeping form -- prone, softly snoring, drooling on the futon -- before being dragged away. It’s this image that comes to mind when he and Kinoshita approach two figures, Oikawa and Konoha, that stand at the gate. No one else is around, not even a border guard. Keiji desperately wants to turn around and join Bokuto on his futon again, but the intensity in Oikawa’s gaze reminds him that if he doesn't go through with this that harm may come to Bokuto. Oikawa might not have said it in so many words, but his insinuation from before is only strengthened by the thinly-veiled terror in the eyes of Kinoshita, Saeko, and Ennoshita as they begged him not to ask questions. 

Keiji is reminded that he’s doing this for them, too, and the ones that they would sacrifice so much for to protect. 

“Oikawa, you’re coming with us?” Kinoshita looks surprised. Konoha doesn’t. 

“The recon will work better if we split up. Now come on, we need to get to Shiratorizawa as fast as possible.” 

It’s not far, maybe twenty minutes of moderately-paced jogging. Keiji keeps up despite his exhaustion, the pure adrenaline of their situation and muscle memory helping him put one foot in front of the other without fail. Oikawa slows as they approach a chain-linked fence. “Kinoshita, Konoha. Take the left side. Akaashi and I will take the right. Meet back here in thirty minutes.”

Kinoshita and Konoha take off, but not before Konoha sends Keiji a look that he can’t decipher. He doesn’t like the way Konoha’s gaze lingers on him until he forces himself to look away. “Come on,” Oikawa says. Keiji can’t see his lips in the darkness, but without much other noise cutting through the night he can just barely make out his words. All of the hairs on Keiji’s arms and neck are standing up straight as he follows Oikawa along the fence, almost in a dead sprint. They’re still going slow enough to retain some kind of semblance of stealth, but quick enough to not waste any time. 

He wishes, not for the first time, that he had his baseball bat on him. Konoha had made him leave everything behind, telling him that they had all of the supplies he would need. He feels nakes without a weapon, especially since they don’t know when a zombie might come ambling along. It doesn’t look like Oikawa has a weapon either, but then again he seems like the type to conceal. Keiji wouldn’t be surprised if he had a knife somewhere on him. 

“Oikawa!” Keiji calls in front of him softly. “Oikawa, that looks like the front gates! Oikawa!” He follows the man as he slows. They’re nearing a well-lit area of the wall, illuminated by fire pits around the area. They’re just big enough to provide light to anyone in extremely close proximity, not big enough to advertise their location. 

Keiji suddenly feels something cold and unwelcoming poking into his back, and he lets out a small gasp. 

“Keep walking,” a voice behind him says, and Keiji obeys, looking to his left for Oikawa. He, too, is being held up by someone, and they make their way towards the front gate. Keiji forces his heart to slow down. Weakness right now is not the best course of action. At the gate are three men, all of which look rather intimidating. The one on the left is tall with pale hair, the one on the right is gangly -- not unlike Kuroo -- with odd red hair, and the one in the middle has wide shoulders and a look on his face that doesn’t leave room for arguing. He’s obviously their leader based on the way the other people in their group avoid his gaze. The man with red hair leans over to whisper something in the leader’s ear, and he merely straightens up at the words, eyes trained on Keiji and Oikawa. 

“Oikawa,” he says, his voice deep and imposing. 

“Ushijima,” Oikawa mocks right back, the sneer on his face evident. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to see your ugly face tonight.”

“The feeling is mutual. What have you brought?” 

Keiji looks between the two of them in confusion. Why do they know each other?

“I brought you your deal,” Oikawa says, smug. Keiji watches in horror as Oikawa steps away from the guard holding him, looking completely at ease surrounded by their self-proclaimed enemy. 

“Oikawa?” Keiji asks, but no one looks at him. 

Oikawa points at Keiji, his eyes never leaving Ushijima’s intense gaze. “I bring you Akaashi, an epidemiologist who may have critical information regarding the development of a vaccine.”

“He may?” Ushijima looks interested, and the red-haired man steps forward to get a better look at Keiji. But Keiji’s brain is moving a mile a minute, his face no doubt paling with each second that passes.

“If you promise peace, you can have our scientist with no repercussions from us. Just as we talked about. No war, no stealing. We stay the hell out of each other's ways.”

Keiji was right. The whole time, Oikawa had a knife on him. And he used it to stab Keiji in the back.

“We do not want a fight. Your terms are agreeable,” Ushijima nods at the person behind Keiji, who pushes him forward towards the three men at the gate. “If you are lying, Oikawa, and this man is not who you say he is…” Ushijima’s gaze flickers to Keiji before training back on Oikawa, “there will be retaliation for your deceit and past actions. We will not be merciful to Karasuno.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be.” Oikawa glances at Keiji but not long enough for Keiji to gauge what he might be thinking. 

“Then the deal is done. Go peacefully, Oikawa. And hope we do not meet again under circumstances such as these.” 

“I’m not planning on it.” Oikawa doesn’t look Keiji’s way again, turning and disappearing into the night. He wonders what he’s going to tell Kinoshita and Konoha, then realizes that Konoha was probably in on it the entire time. Keiji feels sick, and it’s not from vertigo. 

“Akaashi, researcher of epidemiology. I hope you can work with our scientists to develop a vaccine,” Ushijima says, and Keiji nods his head once, stars dancing behind his eyes. Is he going to pass out? Oh gods, he hopes not. They push him past the gates, but it’s too dark to see much of his new home. He should probably be wondering how he’s going to pull this off, or escape, or get word to Bokuto that he’s here.

Instead, all he can think as they lead him deeper into their compound is how right Tsukishima was. Oikawa’s deceit will either put him, the ones he loves, or all of the above into an early grave. Keiji knows that he’ll do everything in his power to keep Bokuto safe. But hell, he can’t wait to see Oikawa again. The next time they meet, Keiji is going to plunge a screwdriver through his head.

“...we can only assume he abandoned the mission,” Oikawa says, and Koutarou can feel Kuroo’s hands clamp down on his shoulders, trying to keep him from lunging. But for some reason, he doesn’t feel like attacking like he usually might in a situation like this. He feels...numb. Cold. Disbelief.

“Akaashi wouldn’t run,” Daichi says certainly. Suga is sitting next to him, looking just as confused as the rest of them feel. 

“It might have been too much for him. He volunteered, but apparently he wasn’t ready. I’m very sorry.”

“Why was he on the mission anyways?” Kuroo looks dubious. 

“He overheard me talking about it with another member of the community and said that he wanted to pull his weight by joining us. It was completely voluntary.” Oikawa eyes Koutarou with badly hidden distaste. It makes him feel naked. “Maybe he didn’t like it here, and was looking for an excuse to leave.”

It’s Kuroo who lunges, and Kenma and Daichi scramble to grab him before he makes it to his apparent target of Oikawa’s neck. “You bastard!” Kuroo spits as Oikawa begins to walk away. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says again. Kuroo immediately turns to Koutarou.

“He’s not gone,” he comforts, placing his hands on Koutarou’s biceps, trying to comfort him. “He’ll be back, I know he will.” 

Koutarou thinks of Akaashi. Akaashi’s weird, half-amused smile. Akaashi’s exasperated sigh and eye roll that was always followed by a warning but fond, “Bokuto-san.” Akaashi’s terrifying expression when he kills zombies. The startled look in Akaashi’s eyes when he saw Koutarou for the first time after killing that zombie with a stapler. Koutarou thinks that he’s loved Akaashi ever since that moment. He didn’t know it then, but he could feel how special Akaashi was. Special people didn’t just _die._ That wasn’t how it worked. Special people lived until the end of the story and had happy endings that grew from sad beginnings. Akaashi’s end hasn’t come yet. It can’t have. He won’t accept it.

“Bokuto?”

Koutarou blinks and focuses his eyes on Kuroo. He isn’t sure what Kuroo sees, but his best friend instinctively flinches backwards. “I’m finding Akaashi,” Koutarou growls. He isn’t sure what this feeling is. It’s beyond anger, beyond frustration, beyond fear. He doesn’t have a word for it. He just knows that he wants Akaashi here, and he thinks he might do anything to make that a reality.

“I’m with you,” Kuroo says gently, pressing his forehead briefly to Koutarou’s, “but we have to do this smartly. We don’t even know where he is.”

“I might be able to help with that,” a voice says from the doorway of the barracks, and they all turn to see a man with dark hair and tired eyes staring at them. Beside him is the man called Tanaka, who Koutarou likes immensely. They had a contest at dinner to see who could catch the most amount of black olives in their mouths after tossing them into the air, and Tanaka had been a worthy opponent. Koutarou might actually trust Tanaka with his life after a display like that.

“Ennoshita? What do you know?” Suga stands, moving to stand by Ennoshita’s side. 

Ennoshita chews on his bottom lip. “I am going to tell you all something and expect that you will not use it against me or the ones I love. I also expect that you won’t interrupt me until I’m finished.” He’s silent again, apparently trying to build up the gall to tell them.

“Chika,” Tanaka says softly, squeezing the dark-haired man’s shoulder. 

Ennoshita nods, squaring his shoulders. “Oikawa has been planning to wage war against Shiratorizawa for a while now. His plan has been in the works for months, and he’s recruited a group of us to help him. Many of us are not willing members of his group.” Ennoshita swallows thickly. “He’s been threatening the people we care about. He has a lot of power here, and even some contacts on the outside. He threatened to have Ryuu go on a scavenging trip and never come back if I didn’t help him. He threatened similar things to others in our group.”

Ennoshita shakes his head sharply. “Yesterday, Akaashi was recruited. He went on a preliminary recon trip to Shiratorizawa with a few members of our group to gauge how ready we are for a war against them. I didn’t know until they were gone that Oikawa’s lover Iwaizume died.”

“Why is that significant?” Kuroo interrupts, but Ennoshita doesn’t look upset.

“Iwaizumi was the only thing keeping Oikawa in check. With him dead, the conflict with Shiratorizawa is likely to escalate, or he’s going to pool resources elsewhere for his own gain. The two individuals who went with Akaashi on the mission to Shiratorizawa say they don’t know anything about what happened to him, but their names are Konoha and Kinoshita if you want to find them. It’s likely they won’t talk, though.” Ennoshita finally looks at Koutarou, something he had been avoiding since he started talking to them. “I’m sorry I can’t help more. There are others I’m protecting.”

His expression softens. “Oikawa isn’t a bad person. He truly wants what’s best for Karasuno. But he doesn’t know when he’s gone too far, and sometimes he can’t see the small things that might be on the way to creating the big picture ending. I don’t want to see anyone die. And I hope you can find Akaashi. He seemed like a good guy.” 

“He _is_ a good guy,” Daichi emphasizes the present tense, voice strong.

“Yes, is,” Ennoshita looks sad.

“If anyone asks, we were never here,” Tanaka nods to them all before ushering them both out.

“Well fuck,” Kuroo says, staring at the door. “Now what?” 

“I think we should go to Ukai,” Suga says, looking a bit gobsmacked. “He...he can’t know that this has been going on. Maybe with him and Takeda behind us, we can get Oikawa to leave.”

“Yeah, or kick him out or something,” Daichi pipes up. 

“If Oikawa is really blackmailing that many people, we have to take a step back,” Kenma says quietly. 

“Kenma’s right,” Kuroo realizes. “If everything we’ve been told is accurate, then even if we kick him out of the community, he may have the means to retaliate.”

“He’s persuasive,” Suga states. “He might be more of a threat outside of these walls than inside them.” 

“What if he were dead?” Koutarou’s mind has finally stopped flipping through thoughts like they’re CDs, and his voice startles everyone into silence. 

“What?” Kuroo utters, gaping at his best friend. 

Koutarou looks up at his friends, who are staring at him as if he suggested….killing….someone. Oh. “Nothing,” Koutarou clamps his hands over his ears, lowering himself to sit on one of the futons. “Nothing,” he mutters again, wishing he were somewhere else. Maybe if they had never come to Karasuno, this wouldn’t have happened. Why did he have to be so happy here? Why did Oikawa take Akaashi with him? Why did Akaashi say yes?

“Bo,” Kuroo’s hand is on his shoulder. “We’ll find Akaashi, okay? I promise.” 

“I can’t believe he’s not here,” Koutarou whispers. Spending every waking moment next to Akaashi has spoiled him. He didn’t think that the loss would feel like this, like missing a part of yourself you didn’t even know existed. He curls his hand into a fist, imagining what it would feel like to have Akaashi’s long fingers intertwined with his. Their meeting had felt like fate, and even now, Bokuto knows that Akaashi is the piece of himself that he likes the most. Akaashi gives him strength and resolve, and someone to smile with and be serious with and hurt with and love with. In Akaashi’s absence, Koutarou isn’t a lover or a hero or a rock or even Bokuto-san. He’s just Koutarou. 

He thinks he hates Koutarou just a little bit.

“We still need a plan,” Daichi reminds them. 

“I’m going after Akaashi,” Koutarou affirms, scrubbing his hands over his face before dropping them. “I have to find him.”

“You don’t even know where he is,” Kuroo says gently. 

“It doesn’t matter. Even if I have to go alone, even if I have to search all of Japan, I know that Akaashi would find me. So I’m gonna find him.”

“Hey now,” Kuroo nudges him. “No one said you’re going it alone.” Koutarou looks up in surprise at his friend, and he’s met with an expression of fierce love. It’s the same expression Kuroo used to make whenever he watched Koutarou make an incredible spike from the other side of the net. He loves that expression: he used to spike as skillfully as possible just to see that expression on Kuroo’s face.

“We’re with you,” Kenma assents, his eyes blazing. 

“I can’t promise any usefulness, but it's always been us four against the world. There’s no way we’re letting you go without us,” Daichi grins sheepishly. 

Koutarou looks between his three friends, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I love you guys.”

“I wish I could join you,” Suga says, “but I have to keep an eye on Karasuno. I owe Akaashi, but I owe the people here, too. I’m hoping that with enough of us fighting here, we might be able to either rip Oikawa from the controls or work to free anyone under his threats.”

“You have a responsibility to this place,” Kenma says gently. “We understand. Karasuno is lucky to have you.”

Suga flushes, but tries to take the compliment gracefully. “I’m sure if you asked around, you might find others interested in helping you.”

“But they don’t know Akaashi. Do you think they’d join us?” Daichi asks.

Suga shrugs. “I think you underestimate how restless some of us get just sitting around. You might be surprised by the loyalty you’ll find in purpose.”

Koutarou nods firmly, a team already forming in his mind. They’d assemble a team, find Akaashi, and liberate Karasuno. “We have preparations to make,” Koutarou nods at his friends, his wonderful, amazing friends, who are standing by his side no matter what uncertainties the future might bring. He doesn’t have time to think about Akaashi’s empty cot, or his abandoned backpack resting under it, or the thought that Akaashi might be long dead by now. He can’t think about those things. 

He has a partner to save.

Miles away, Akaashi Keiji sits in a small room furnished with a cot and an overturned crate. He’s never been claustrophobic, but no matter how small he feels right now, the room feels smaller and smaller until he can barely move, barely breathe. His promise to Bokuto rings in his ears. _I'll find my way back, Bokuto-san._ His palm sits outstretched on his lap. It’s empty.

He longs for the hand that belongs in his.

The world is spinning out of control, and Keiji has no idea how to stop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. So, um. Let me preface this by saying that this was NOT the way this was supposed to end. But then the story spiraled from me and I got caught up in it and somehow….this came out. Because of that, I will do everything in my power to write a sequel, and it will have a definitive and wonderful (and hopefully epic) ending. For those of you who cannot wait (I know that for some people, “unfinished” pieces of work can be extremely stressful and ruining to the psyche), please let me know and I’ll close out the story for you privately, since I’m not sure when I’ll get around to writing the sequel. 
> 
> All of that being said, a sequel cannot be promised, as I’m not actually unhappy with this ending and also I would hate to let anyone down if I never get around to writing one, but I definitely have a loose plot for one formed in my mind! If there were to be a sequel, then we would see more familiar faces such as Date Tech, the rest of Aoba Johsai, Johzenji, Shiratorizawa (as teased), the rest of Fukurodani, and probably some fun familiars like the Miyas, Kiyoomi, etc! Let me know if you’d be interested, and how you might like to see these other teams implemented in the story! 
> 
> **If i write a sequel I need your help...who should join Bokuto’s search and rescue group (AKA the Dream Team)? :)**
> 
> The Daisuga companion piece will probably be added within the next few weeks, depending on how crazy my classes and work schedule continue to be! I’m definitely hoping to get it posted by the end of September, so keep an eye on this series! 
> 
> Lastly, thank you to everyone who has joined me for this adventure. This fic was insane to write, mostly because halfway through it went from an OTP meet-cute in a zombie apocalypse to a wild, conspiracy-filled plot bunny with too many directions and a crazy amount of characters. I appreciate every single one of your kudos and inspiring comments, they are 100% the only reason this story actually came to a close! Thank you!!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudos or comment if you're liking it - I respond to all comments! Or feel free to leave critiques, I'm not shy xx
> 
> My [tumblr](https://lessons-from-moths.tumblr.com/). Come say hi!


End file.
